Cat and Mouse
by GradGirl2010
Summary: Cecelia and Mickey return to Wasteland to find it under siege yet again. Earthquakes threaten to tear the regions apart, creatures called Blotworx are attacking, and The Guardian Pools are drying up. The Mad Doctor has returned, claiming to want to fix what he tried to destroy. Oswald believes him. Cecelia refuses to. On top of it all, Prescott is avoiding her. Why?
1. Wasteland Beckons Again

**Cat and Mouse**

 **Cecelia and Mickey return to Wasteland to find it under siege yet again. Earthquakes threaten to tear the regions apart, creatures called Blotworx are attacking, and The Guardian Pools are drying up. The Mad Doctor has returned, claiming to want to fix what he tried to destroy. Oswald believes him. Cecelia refuses to. But she can't worry about him now. Not when Prescott keeps avoiding her.**

 **xxx**

 **Wasteland Beckons Again**

 **Alright folks! Here it is! Sorry it took so long. Work was getting in the way.**

 **Tell me what you think?**

 **The summary is a work in progress.**

 **xxx**

 _A leather wrapped journal flutters open, Not so long ago, I was sucked into a world my grandfather, Master Yensid, created. A world made for the Toons long forgotten by the world._

 _Circling down a vortex of a drain, another world of happy, smiling people blossomed. Cartoon characters once on the drawing board now lost on distant memories. These forgotten beings were subjected to cruel experimentations conducted by a man known as The Mad Doctor.  Thunder and lightning clashing - The Mad Doctor cackling malevolently. Allied to him was a THING beyond mortal comprehension. A being so devilish and cruel that calling him a monster wouldn't come close to justice. The Phantom Blot. The Blot whirled around with folded arms, towering behind the cackling Doctor like a shadow. Through the use of a device he named The Terror Box, The Mad Doctor swept a commanding finger forward, The Mad Doctor plunged into the darkest recesses of my most horrid of nightmares, The People of wasteland only ran so far. The Blot fingers changed to wires, connecting to the skulls of the fleeing people, and siphoned them energy for The Blot. The Blot's body and power grow. Together, these two villains decimated Wasteland. Absolute Terror was the weapon they used to cause their mass chaos._

 _Using the abject fears and nightmares of the people, The Mad Doctor imbued The Blot with new power, rejuvenating him to his former glory. The Blot starting out as nothing more than a stain on a table, evolving into a Nightmare King of epic proportions. The more this monster fed, the more powerful he grew. All but impervious to the effects of paint and thinner. Paint and thinner splashed to the monster, only to be wiped off and thrown back. The Blot became hungry for power. Craved nothing more than the terrors of the people. Green drips of terror liquified spilling down the gorging monster's jaw. But he wished for more than just terror. He wanted a power not even Wasteland's Guardians themselves could rival. A Power that would make him the most feared being in all of Wasteland. My power. Crimson red eyes shot open in a glare. Cecelia in her young cat form, wielding a ball of phenomenal energy in her palm. My magic. The Blot snatched Cecelia in his grasp, taking her magic and putting her under his control. With it, he sundered Wasteland and nearly destroyed it and everyone within in a matter of hours. He threw Cecelia aside, ensnaring all of Wasteland in thorns and flooding the terrains with Blotlings. Cecelia, in his thrall, brought on a hailstorm to those who opposed him. And he would have succeeded. Were it not for a Lucky Rabbit, Oswald zipping through the skies with his remote, striking the enemy down with high voltage, a Mischievous Mouse, Mickey emerging from the mirror, splashing thinner and paint left to right, a Grouchy Gremlin, Prescott turning his nose up haughtily, casting enemies away with his glove, and a gaggle of friends. Ortensia and Gus waved gleefully while standing their ground against the Blotlings._

 _When I first entered Wasteland, I wanted nothing more than to help destroy The Blot. The burns at her temples infuriated her. The thing that dragged me into that world and hurt my grandfather in the process. Cecelia clawing to escape the demonic hand dragging her in, swatting Yensid away as he tried to save her. But...as my magic started to grow, and more and more was revealed about me, my sole purpose became to return home. To return to my grandfather - the one person who accepted me for my 'condition.' Cecelia driven to madness, consuming The Doctor and Blot in flames. Prescott and the others saw what she is capable of, and so she ran._

 _What a fool I was to keep these kind hearted, compassionate people at arm's length. The smiling faces of Mickey, Oswald, Gus, Ortensia, and Prescott. Never did I come close to imagining I would be so lucky to meet people who aren't afraid of what I can do. Those smiling faces herding to her, wrapping her in warm hugs. Or find love in someone so...irritable, depressed, and every version of sarcastic. Cecelia and Prescott sitting on cliff while holding hands, twisted away from each other in stubbornness._

 _So many challenges and choices. It became hard to discern if the challenges swayed our choices or if our choices created the challenges. Mickey and Oswald panicking to solve riddles set by The Blot. Cecelia trapped in the castle, debating on whether or not to use her magic. Prescott, Ortensia, and Gus struggling to hold their own in the face of great odds. The road to victory was fraught with obstacles. Personal and mission oriented. Prescott and Cecelia arguing like cats and dogs. Oswald and the others shaking their heads. The Blot and Doctor pushed us all to our physical, emotional, and mental limits. He turned us against one another, A Blot controlled Cecelia standing on an unconscious Mickey and Oswald, watched us to squirm as he toyed with us and our friends, Ortensia and Prescott helpless at Horace and Clarabelle being held captive, and drove us to our limits, Gus and Ortensia on their hands and knees, completely lost of breath, when he discovered the nightmares we try to mask. A fire, and ethereal needles controlled by Cecelia. Mickey spending every ounce of paint and thinner. Oswald coming close to breaking his ears and remote._

 _We weren't deterred. Even when we were kicked while down, we rose to new heights to combat our enemies. Thanks to my friends, I unleashed my magic with confidence and was able to defeat The Blot, and break a curse placed upon me years ago. Cecelia's young and youthful cat form evolved into a fully grown young adult. Fires she conjured rivaled those smoldering in Hell. Prescott, the grumpy old gremlin - I owe him my life. The battle of good and evil spent every last ounce of strength I had. Her heart rose to the clouds, bursting and covering Wasteland. Death had me in it's grips. Then Prescott...Prescott kissed Cecelia. Her heart emerged within him and was returned, bringing her back to life. I couldn't have beared through any of it without him. I cannot wait to see him again._

 _The Mad Doctor escaped during the madness. If I know him, he'll return with a new scheme. Let him. No matter what he tries, Mickey, Oswald, Prescott, Ortensia, Gus, and I will be there to stop him again. Until then, I have chores to finish._

 _xxx_

 _Dear Cecelia,_

 _I will be in the celestial gardens gathering herbs. Have the workshop cleaned by the time I return._

 _Remember: NO MAGIC! Either it is spotless, or suspend your magic broom privileges._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Your Loving Grandfather._

"Loving grandfather, my ass!"

A thick bristled scrub brush was dunked inside soap water. Grim and filth clinging to the brush tainted the bubbles. The brush was ground in rapid circles to a stubborn stain on the stone floors of Yensid's workshop. Exposed legs in folding shorts were red raw from rubbing in the soapy moisture and rough stone. A loose white shirt was drenched. The folded cuffs the worst of the wear. Yellow gloves tearing. High top black and red shoes drenched. And the sweat clinging the white locks of tied back hair sticking to the forehead.

Three hours and counting. The thick scent of cleaning supplies was ripe in the air. Crimson eyes were watering under their mercy. But well worth it when the brush was able to be thrown into the bucket with a victorious splash.

"YEE-HAW! DONE!" The yellow gloves were thrown in a trash bin, and the flamboyant cheers of Cecelia shook the old walls. That dust better not ruin her floors. Yensid forbid her from using any magic - not even the brooms - to clean up the mess she made. What a chore!

"Phew…" Cecelia ran her arm across her sweaty brow. "Finally! Doubt Grandpa will find a cleaner home." She admired her shimmering work from the floor. She was too exhausted to stand quite yet. The mantel piece, the table, vases and pots, Yensid's work tools - nothing within that room wasn't dazzling. The workshop was the cleanest it had ever been in the last couple of years. The pile of dirt stained towels in a corner will testify to her diligence. "I sure hope that will be the case. I don't think I can take much more of this." The cause behind her diligent cleaning in the result of her being punished. Cecelia was playing with an advanced spell she stumbled upon while reading one of Yensid's books. Needless to say, it - literally - blew up in her face, into the ceiling, on the floors, and even in the sink. To say Yensid was furious would be similar to calling an erupting volcano a POP of an earthly zit. Chernabog himself would have run in terror.

It been a little over a year since Wasteland was saved. Readjusting to home-life was a bit on the arduous side for Cecelia. She did, after all, return a different person from when she left. Before her journey through Wasteland, she had kept herself in a dank isolation. Barriers she placed around her heart and body forbade anyone from coming closer than 100 yards. Possibly further. Betrayal and hurt were an unbreakable chain, leashing to the bottomless abyss of her of sorrows. She never left Yensid's Tower. Fully convinced she was as happy as can be locking herself within those walls. It was easier than approaching others, and being despised for what she was. How foolish she was.

Traveling with Mickey, Oswald, Gus, Ortensia, and Prescott was the best experience of her life. The laughs, the arguments, and the randomness that ensued whenever they were together. Even when she was a stranger, they welcomed her with open arms, allowing her help in ridding their land of The Blot. Well, not Prescott at first. Not that she was surprised. He is a right arrogant grouch on his good days. But later...Cecelia couldn't imagine the journey without him by her side. He and the others helped her to chisel away at her walls. To allow them closer to her. The ice around her heart gradually melted. Soon she created a bond she cherished more than all the magic in universe. She created a family amongst them. Something she hasn't had in quite some time. Save for her grandfather.

After her reunion with her father, a weight that trapped her in a constricting vice was shed. For the first time in years, closure was hers and the wounds in her heart started to heal themselves. Granted, seeing her father after so long opened new ones. However, releasing him from the mental oblivion barring him from remembering Cecelia or Myra cleansed her of the rancor she harbored. Doing this allowed her to truly move on with her life and begin anew with Yensid.

Too bad Prescott doesn't have a heart. In the physical sense. Emotionally...well...his heart belongs to her. And vice versa. She knows he'd love it in her world. Maybe. He is stingy, and sets ridiculous standards. But she thinks she might be able to get him to like it. Who knows? Maybe she'll find a spell that can help him leave Wasteland. If not for a day or two. Then they both can live in each other's worlds happily.

"Prescott..." She blushed, stroking the communicator pin he let her keep, "I wonder how you're doing."

She and Prescott have conversed through the magic mirrors, idly chatting about daily life, and the progress they've made in science and magic. Their conversations would last four hours, well into the next day. Gus and Yensid have thoroughly scolded them both. They never learned. They'd do it again the next day. Their own private rendezvous. Prescott often asked for Cecelia to return to Wasteland so they can spend time with one another. And she has a few times. Prescott's taken her to different locations for their dates. Tortooga, Tomorrow City, Ventureland - everywhere they've been before, he discovered a new spot for them to be alone, adn admire the world they helped save. In those moments, when Prescott has her in his arms, Cecelia's heart feels like it would burst from the insurmountable joy making it flutter. Just thinking about him tied her stomach in knots. Made her knees go weak.

"Maybe...maybe I'll go see him today." It's been quite a while since her last visit. She hopes he isn't too cross with her.

Cecelia gathered the brush, bucket, and towels, taking them to the wash room to be properly cleaned. The final duty of her cleaning list to fulfill. The last stretch of her race. She can't falter now. As she crossed the threshold, a fervent clattering caught her ear. She thought it might be the wind shaking the tower rafters again. The rafters aren't known for their _sturdiness_ in the face of a breeze. Listening more closely, Cecelia was baffled that the usual creak with the rafters wasn't heard. The clattering was growing more rampant. She sent the dirty cloths and bucket down, returning to the workshop. There wasn't any wind outside to cause it. The windows were closed as well. Nothing was loose from place. It's not an earthquake, and the tower isn't moving. Where was the clattering coming from.

"Huh?" The brown cloth on the work table was rippling. What was draped beneath it was the source of the strange noise. "That's…" Wasteland was underneath there. She covered it so nothing would accidentally spill into it like with Mickey. Or...jump out and grab her.

Wasteland shook in spasms under the cloth, jerking a centimeter off the table every so often. A lump formed in Cecelia's throat. She hesitated to touch the cloth, afraid of what might emerge. Last time, the hand of the Blot snatched her up, and a nightmare began to unfold with each step she took. Swallowing the lump and steeling her nerves, Cecelia closed her eyes and ripped the cloth off. She gasped in abject horror, dropping the cloth. She went pale as a sheet. She staggered back, close to falling over.

"By the spirits!" She cried, holding her hands to her mouth. Cracks running across the display split the regions of Wasteland apart. The buildings were either tipping or crumbled apart. Wasteland started to tremble again. A gaping crack formed in Meanstreet. Cecelia planted her hands. Her mind and heart denied what her eyes absorbed. The world she and Mickey helped to save from destruction was tearing itself apart. "What's happening?" She quaked.

A year has passed since Cecelia set foot in Wasteland. Part of her was still very much afraid to enter. The Blot may be gone, but what he put her through will forever linger. Nevertheless, she can't sit idly by while the home of her closest friends tears itself asunder. She needed to put her personal fears aside and race to their aid. Just like they did for her so many times. Lucky for her, she left her spell book with Prescott. Hopefully he hasn't lost it in that mess he calls a workshop.

Cecelia nodded firmly. She was going to go back. She grabbed the closest pen on hand and went to look for paper. No sense just leaving without Yensid knowing where she's gone. As she touched the pen down, a bright glow came from Dark Beauty Castle's highest tower. Cecelia's legs urged her to run. The last time a glow came from there, a hand soon followed and pulled her in. However, the glow seemed different. Cecelia approached it. Her feline curiosity overwhelmed her judgement. She wondered if that glow has to do with the cracks, or if someone was sending a signal. _The Mad Doctor maybe?_ He did miraculously disappear. This might be his doing. All the more reason for her to hurry. _Grandpa will understand more and worry less since I'll be returning of my own accord._

"Just hold on, guys. I'm coming." She swore. She wished she had a way to reach Mickey. The mirror wasn't being cooperative this time around. Maybe she can summon him again like last time. Hopefully these cracks won't be necessary for them both to be involved. Because that would mean Wasteland was on the verge of being destroyed again.

Suddenly, just as she was about to write her letter, Cecelia was yelped as Wasteland started to quake out of control. The display bounced wildly on the table, skipping about like a square full of jumping beans. Cecelia dove and caught it just as it fell off. The display was heavier than it looked. The shaking wasn't making it any easier to hold. She lugged it back and slammed it to the middle of the table, putting books and cups around it so it wouldn't fall again. Forget the letter. Wasteland was in trouble. Cecelia braced herself, backing all the way to the wall for a running start. Leaving was easy enough. If what Gus said is true, entering should be a cinch as well. Cecelia never got to take a step.

The glow amassing from Dark Beauty Castle flared out of control. Bursts of fuzzy sparks hailed in a dome that rained down on the streets. Cecelia was so surprised that by the time she collected herself to charge her feet wouldn't move. She looked down to curse her own apprehension. A mist filled glow glued her feet to the floor. She pulled and tugged, roaring at the top of her lungs. The mist wouldn't relent. She want to pry her feet free. Her hands were ensnared by the same glow, frozen outward as if trapped in invisible shackles.

"What the-? HEY! LET GO!" She struggled. She twisted and thrashed viciously. The misty binds were strong. Too powerful for her to fight. "FINE!" Her eyes began to glow bright red. Her hair wafted in the energy pouring from her being. " _Dimittere...et ignoscat...metum-_ "The same mist gripped her hands and feet clamp to her throat, choking the spell back. Pressure shot to Cecelia's skull. She desperately searched for a means to escape. The world was going blurry. The mist binds resonated with the power still emitting from her. A stream, similar to an aroma, fed to the glow surrounding Wasteland. Cecelia's eyes widened fearfully. Ethereal talons rose from the glow, feeding from the streams being drained from her. _NO! Not again!_ She cried. This is like what happened last time. She fought in hysteria, ignoring the oxygen starved from her lungs. Through sheer force of will she managed to budge the shackles an inch, making them falter. She tried to utter a spell, only to drive the clamp to squeeze tighter. The streams became thicker, and the talons grew bigger. A small breath filled her and she screamed, "GRANDPA…!"

The talons shot forth. One clamped her arms to her sides, lifting her several feet off the ground. The shackle at her neck snaked to her mouth, forcing it to stay open. Her protest were incoherent mutters, but useless all the same. The second talon taunted and teased her, brushing the backs of its fingers to her cheek. Oddly, making her sick to her stomach, an enamoring warmth tingled her chest. _Something's wrong! This is nothing like The Blot. This feels...familiar?_ The second talon drew back and plunged down her throat. Cecelia gagged as the huge arm wiggled in her windpipe. She hand clawing beyond where her internal organs would reside, digging further than the mortal coil of her person. Her insides were being shredded to ribbons. Tears welled to the corners of her her blurring eyes. The world was spinning like a top. Her screams were choked by the ravaging claw.

 _HELP ME, HELP ME,_ she cried in her mind. Yensid, Mickey, Prescott - anyone! _SOMEBODY, PLEASE!_ The talons grasped something within her. A pressure like a vice jolted the core of her soul. Her eyes closed. _MAKE - IT- STOP!_ A pulse fired from her, jolting the arms and shackles holding her. The talon in her stomach slowly slithered out. Her chest tensed and caved, her stomach pumping for his to leave. The talon removed itself with one sharp PULL. Saliva exploded from her mouth. She choked on the sweet air filling her lungs. The lingering hand threw Cecelia to the wall. She fell to her side. Awards on the shelf above toppled onto her. Darkness was gradually engulfing her. Her eyes were heavy as lead. In her stubbornness to retaliate, she forced her eyes to remain open long enough to meet the enemy which violated her face to face. She wanted to see what it those malicious hands stole from her.

For a breif moment her vision was clear. Confusion rippled her eyes. The shrinking talons were cupping to a swirling sun gold orb. "N...o…" She tried to reach for them. Her limbs were anchored to the floor. As the darkness started to engulf her, the talons sank beneath the dome of Wasteland, taking the orb somewhere she wouldn't reach. And then...black.

 **To be continued.**

 **What do you think?**


	2. Brush & Magic Reunited

**Brush & Magic **

**Reunited**

 **Hey guys! I made a revision in chapter one. Check it out.**

 **Alright. Moving on.**

 **xxx**

 _That...power…_

 _So intense...so powerful...so...familiar. A familiar presence was infused with those malicious hands. Impossible. No one from Wasteland possesses magic. Not this sort of magic. The Guardians, Madam Leona, The Mad Doctor - no one I've met has the capability to accomplish an attack such as the one that assaulted me. No one...except The Blot._

 _No. It's not possible! The Blot can't be alive! I made sure of that!_ _Cecelia grabbed hold of the malevolent core pumping life into the monstrous figure, and shattered it with but a whisper._ _The Blot is dead and gone for the better part of a year. There is no way he could have survived. NONE! And still, no plausible explanation is behind the attack on me. Neither is there an answer as to what that orb was._

 _So warm and intense. The power emitting from it beckoning to me. The hands of my attacker took it to Wasteland. A lure to bait me into a trap? Or something far more nefarious? Wasteland...it's in danger...again._

 **xxx**

" _Cecelia..._ " A muffled voice cried. Light shaking jostled a numb shoulder, coaxing lead heavy eyes to spread. "Cecelia!" The voice came through more clear. The blurred, black mass looming over hazy eyes sent nauseating shock shooting throughout Cecelia's body. _Blot…?_ In the back of her mind a voice was screaming for her to get up and run. Another voice entirely told her to remain. That she was safe - in a matter of speaking. "Cecelia! Wake up! It me!" The fretful person shaking her begged. The mysterious form sharpened to a discernable shape. That of a round eared mouse.

"Hrm...Mi...ckey?" She rasped lethargically. Another trick? Mickey glossed ardently hearing her say his name. She was going to live. The unbearable tightness squeezing her muscles head to toe would beg to differ. _My body...feels thrashed._ She couldn't find the strength to sit up. Mickey grabbed her by the shoulders, setting her up against the wall. She was stirring gradually. She was able to face Mickey, his smiling face bringing her senses flashing back. It wasn't a trick. That is Mickey. "Mickey?! What are you-? When did you-?! How did you get here?! " Not that she isn't happy to see him. But how in the name of Merlin did he come to be in Yensid's workshop. Sharp pain drilled in her skull.

"Easy! Don't get too excited!" Mickey urged her. He sighed light enough so Cecelia wouldn't hear. She hasn't changed a bit since last time.

"Sorry. It's just…" She stroked loose, wiry hairs behind her ear. She laughed at his mother hen routine. "I'm really happy to see you." His sense of timing is as punctual as ever. The feeling was mutual. Finding her on the floor terrified Mickey. "But more to the point, how did you get here?"

"You have Gus to thank for that."

"Gus?" She gasped, managed to bend her legs sideways.

"I don't know how he did it, but Gus reached out to me through my television." _Through his TV?_ He directed her attention to the prankster mirror above the mantel down the corridor. "He created a gateway for me to travel here. Thanks to him, I was able to make it here." This got Cecelia thinking. Before she was attacked. Given the timing, Cecelia pondered the strange light coming from Dark Beauty Castle. "What happened to you, Cecelia? When I got here, you were unconscious on the floor."

"I was attacked." She grunted.

"Attacked?! By who?" He clenched his fists.

"Not a _who_. A _what_!" She snarled. Mickey tilted his head confusedly. Cecelia glared at the table. The cloth was returned, covering Wasteland, but she bore holes into it. "Something reached out of Wasteland! Tore something right out of me and took it with them!" She touched her neck. She can still feel that arm in her throat. Those claws tearing her insides as it plucked that orb right out of her. "Oh no!" Amidst the grudging reminiscing, a horrifying realization struck Cecelia. "Mickey! Wasteland is in danger!" She shook him by the shoulder.

"How do you know?"

"Before I was knocked out, these cracks formed in Wasteland right before my eyes!" The entire display looked like it would shatter into pieces. "Something terrible is happening! We have to help them!"

"I see. So that's what he meant." Mickey hummed pensively. Cecelia ogled him curiously. "When Gus reached out to me, he said they needed OUR help." He touched Cecelia's shoulder. Her stomach did flips. Wasteland must be in peril if both of them are being asked for. Just as she feared. Mickey leered at the draped world of forgotten toons. "He said he was sending me here to get you and the brush!"

"The brush?" The brush is Mickey's greatest weapon and tool. Blotlings and Inert buildings and terrains were no match for him. Now that she thinks about it, the brush dropped off the face of the universe a long time ago. "Grandpa hid the brush inside another one of his mirrors. It's up those stairs." She gestured to the stairway leading to another corridor. "He said it was for safekeeping. I just think he was afraid I'd play with it." She grinned impishly. Which she would have.

"Then we have to go get it!" Mickey helped Cecelia to her feet, pushing her by the back. A severe case of altitude sickness spun her head. She felt light as a feather. Not in a good way. Her legs turned to noodles. She stumbled and planted her hands to the wall, saving herself from falling again. "Whoa! Easy!" Mickey kept his hands ready to catch her. She was pale. And it wasn't because of the hair. Her breath was short and labored. She was sweating bullets, too. "Are you sure you're well enough to go?" No one would hold it against her if she chose to stay home.

"I'm…" Cecelia touched a hand to her stomach and chest. She can't quite explain it, but she felt like there was a gaping hole somewhere inside of her. If someone were to touch her back, their hand would emerge from her stomach. And she felt...off balance. _What's wrong with me?_ "I'm fine. I just...need to move…"

Moving is the worst thing. Batting her eyes was a trial. She tested her limits, and went for the table. Before embarking on recovering the brush, Cecelia needed for Mickey to see what she saw. Mickey walked alongside her, but left plenty of room for her. Her stride was sketchy. She had to throw her hands to the table stable herself. Her fingers brushed the cloth. She grabbed it by the handful and ripped it off. Wasteland was an inert exoskeleton.

"What?!" Cecelia gasped.

"Where is it?" Mickey swept a hand. It went right through. The cloth was clearly covering it. "How can this be? It was painted in, right?" Or so he assumed if she saw cracks in it.

"It was! I swear!" Those cracks forming. "This might be worse than we thought." She tried to touch the land for herself. As expected, her hand went through. "Wasteland must have removed the paint so we can't enter." They need the brush now more than ever.

"Then we have to hurry!" Mickey grabbed the edge of the table, swinging into a sharp turn for the stairs. His hand knocked over a bell jar, shattering it on the floor. The magical hat inside rose to the air. A star beam shot to the bucket of broomsticks.

"Uh-oh!" Cecelia dreaded. One stick bounced along. The bristles parted as feet, and arms and buckets sprouted. One after another, the magic brooms awoke, marching up the stairway. "Oh dear! The cleaning crew!"

"Are they dangerous?" Mickey asked nervously.

"Not really. But they have a tendency to go overboard." She shrugged. Though she was putting it dramatically mild. "Never mind them! Hurry!" She tucked Mickey under her arm. She barreled the brooms out of the way, charging in a sprint up the stairs.

Unbeknownst to the pair, Yensid was watching them from beyond a window. A air of somber shaded him.

 **xxx**

 _In what can be considered a short amount of time, The Brave and Mischievous mouse and The Curious and Determined Cat began embarking on another perilous journey. Much like their previous escapade, this second endeavor will push them to beyond new limits and heights. The power of magic and brush will not be enough. The power they amassed through bonds of companionship will be needed to serve as their swords and shields. The challenges they face will be more arduous than the last. The dangers crawling from the depths will put not only their faith in others to the test, but the strength of their own individual wills and hearts._

 _My utmost faith in them will never waver or fade. In my heart, I know they will prevail. That does not, however, assuage my worry._

 _Take care...both of you._

 **xxx**

A couple of the brooms beat them to the top. They sloshed their buckets in the infinitely flowing fountains. Water was spilling as they continued on their way. The miraculous feat was when they jumped the large gap in the middle of the room without losing a single drop. The same agility was displayed when they jumped ten feet to the second level. Where they were going through the bars in the walls was an unnerving mystery.

"Is that it?" Mickey noticed the mirror where the brooms passed. Between the floating lanterns.

"That's the one." She interlaced her fingers. Mickey stepped on. Cecelia tossed and he kicked off, landing with a graceful flip to the other side. Cecelia got in a running start. Pushing off at the edge, she cleared the jump.

"Impressive!" Mickey whistled.

"Not too shabby yourself." Mickey and Cecelia ran up the wall, grappling hold of the ledge. They slithered on their stomach to the surface. The magic brooms clearing the jump with ease aggravated them. Turning them into firewood comes to mind. Too bad they were busy.

Cecelia stroked an etching on the mirror. The reflection of them rippled to a distortion. Another plane awaited. Hand in hand the two jumped in, landing to a bed of solid rock in a world all its own. A sky cohesively hued by navy and violet swirling magnanimously. The waters lapping to jagged rocks below reflected the same colors. The inert exoskeletons of rocks and stars floated in a winding path, ending at a bedrock a ways up. Uttering a spell to clear the distance wasn't enough. There is a method to the madness. Mickey has to chisel at the rust with his brush skills.

"I see it!" Mickey darted forward. The brush was floating on the next bedrock. He blindly tried to jump. He panicked as he was about to fall short. Slabs of rocks rose from the water, forming a safe path for him. "Whoa! Talk about helpful."

"More like a lesson in looking before you leap." Cecelia playfully scolded him. Mickey blushed at his zeal. She got him there.

Mickey tapped the new ground, testing how safe it is. He exhaled with relief, and proceeded. Cecelia admired the plane around them. She had to give her grandfather credit. He knew how to make the most interesting places. Mickey gently wrapped his fingers to the brush. The power of paint and thinner was his again. Holding it again was strange, yet empowering. Gazing to what was inert, he sensed of test of his capabilities arising. His role as master of the brush being placed upon his shoulders again. The moment he paints in their path.

"Forgotten how to use that thing?" Cecelia teased with hands on her hips.

"Not in the slightest!" He boldly stated. He aimed to a star that lost its paint. Powder blue paint gushed from the bristles. The star twinkled in brilliance once again. He twirled the brush with a prideful flare, painting the curving path of rocks. They conjoined like puzzle pieces, linking to the next bedrock ahead. He blew on the bristles, then turned to haughty smirk at Cecelia. "Well?" She applauded him. He has successfully forced her foot into her mouth. "Shall we proceed?"

"Let's, _O' Master of the Brush_." She sarcastically cutsied. Mickey puffed out his chest, marching like a general. Cecelia rolled her eyes, strolling after him. As he painted in the rocks and meteors, Cecelia her eyes and mind wander. Although, she and Mickey had to mind their step. The comets Mickey painted in had a mind of their own. One or two nearly took their heads clean off their shoulders. The water's splash radius drizzled the path. The rocks became slick. Mickey and Cecelia both had fun trying to stay upright.

The magic flowing in this particular domain should as magnificent as it appears. An abundance of awesome energy flowing in a torrential spiral from the seabed to the sky. She might as well be walking inside a bland closet. _Why don't I sense anything from here?_

Mickey and Cecelia arrived at the second mirror quickly than anticipated. Stars and comets danced within the cosmic plane, erupting the water below in gushing waves. A sight to behold. Cecelia unlocked the next mirror. She and Mickey jumped right on through without a second thought. Where they ended up stunned Mickey.

"Hold on!" This had to be some sort of trick. "This is my home!" He gasped.

"No way!" Cecelia gasped. Mickey examined it closely. The bed, the ringful carpet, the checkered kitchen past the archway. There was no doubt about it. Mickey was home. "Your house is adorable!" She squealed. She knelt to play with a pair of fuzzy slippers by his bed. The portraits of him and his dog made her flutter. The ear shaped clock by his bed was the cutests thing she's seen. "Come to think of it, I've always wanted to see where you lived!" Her enthusiasm dwindled when she saw Mickey's disconcerted look. "Mickey? Is something wrong?"

"This doesn't feel right." He mumbled, stepping lightly about his room. His lamp was the same. None of the pictures were moved. His made bed was - well - made. And he is pretty sure he turned off the coffee pot in the kitchen. Yet...there was just an awkward feeling. A sense the room was...false. "This...this isn't right." He squeezed the brush. Cecelia didn't sense anything amiss. Then again, she doesn't sense much of anything. Mickey splashed thinner at his wall. The wall evaporated to bland stone. "I knew it! I'm not home! This is all toon!"

 **xxx**

 _Illusions and misconceptions pave the stones of innumerable paths, serving as obstacles to deter travelers. By the mouths of strangers - or friends - or from what is seen with one's own eyes, illusions are only as powerful as the belief that is put towards feeding them. Because of a struggle to accept what is, or a strong delusion for what isn't - the ability to muster the courage and pierce through the facade is a strength many fail to grasp. Or simply wish to not sprain their fragile hearts._

 **xxx**

"I thought toon only existed in Wasteland or…" Cecelia trailed off, gawking at the mirror. "Another illusion by the mirrors." She folded her arms grumpily. "I cannot shake the feeling dear grandpa Yensid knew we'd be needing your brush again."

"He doesn't strike me as a prankster."

"Deserts have an equally dry sense of humor, but even they pull cruel pranks once in awhile." Mickey snorted at the simile. Nevertheless, they needed to hurry. The question is, which way was out.

Mickey pondered the mystery for a moment. This false home was a strange one. The detail in mimicking his bedroom was immaculate. He would have bought into it if he didn't know better. But as his gaze trailed to the kitchen, the discrepancies became as apparent as a light in a dark room. The checkered flooring was askew. The fridge, sink, and windows - whatever attention went to the room became very lax as it pressed on. It was hard on his eyes. He wanted to thin it all away, but needed to conserve thinner and paint. He had to be absolutely sure about where to thin.

The living room captured his full attention. The wall the TV was against definitely wasn't right. Mickey stormed over to it. He planted his feet and unleashed a roaring river of thinner. The wall melted away in seconds. Cecelia screamed at the top of her lungs in abject horror at what was on the other side.

"GRANDPA'S OBSERVATION ROOM!" She charged in. Two feet of water swallowed her legs to the knee as she raced across. Mickey sank waist high, being splashed by Cecelia rampage. The platform in the middle was etched with a celestial star. The water submerged the first step and was creeping to the next. The massive telescope sloped to the huge window was free of moisture. Cecelia really wished she could say the same for the rest of the observation room. "Oh man…"

Waterfalls of gushing water were coming out of every hole in the wall it could find. Even the books on the shelves were spewing with raging water. The ceiling itself was leaking. Whatever damage if up there made Cecelia quiver. It was amazing the whole room wasn't a pool by now. The magic brooms were marching around the second level. Half were incessantly pouring water, adding to the flood, while the other half went to retrieve more.

"OVERBOARD! WAAY TOO OVERBOARD!" Cecelia pulled at her hair. The brooms do this all the time. They just need to what they need and take a break. But they keep going for hours and hours until Yensid stops them. Cecelia would know. She used them for the first time years ago and couldn't get them to stop. "Grandpa's gonna kill me when he comes home!"

"Can't you stop them?" Mickey begged. Before they're drowned.

"Just stand back and watch me!" She bent her fingers. Mickey gave her room. He's been excited to see her magic again. Cecelia took a deep breath, raising her hands. " _Enough is enough! Time to stop! Take now - you naughty brooms - the whole day off!_ " She thrust her palm. Mickey anxiously await a feat of mysticism. But nothing happened. "Huh?" Cecelia stared confused at her palm. Maybe she said it wrong. She'll try another. " _Scopis, Ceteri!_ " **(** _ **Brooms, rest**_ **)** Mickey glanced at the brooms this time. Expecting them to topple like dominos. They didn't so much as flinch. Cecelia's hand started to tremble. Fear glossed her eyes. " _Expecto patronum!_ " Nothing. " _Wingardium leviosa!_ " Nothing again. " _Repalo! Delere! BIBBIDI BOBBIDI BOO!_ " She flailed her arms in a tantrum. The last one made a tiny fizz ball that plopped to the ground at her feet, and melted like ice. One after another, she spouted every spell she knew off the top of her head. Nothing, nothing, and zilch. Out of breath, Cecelia stopped her futile exertion. Two spells not working is a coincidence. But five?

Petrified shudders shook from her throat. The abject horror in which she stared at her hands made even Mickey shake with fear. "Cecelia...what's..." He was scared to ask.

Cecelia dropped to her knees. That emptiness nagging at her. The gaping hole at her center. The reason she wasn't able to sense so much as a breeze of magic since she woke up. "My magic…It's gone!"

 **To be continued.**


	3. A Brush With No Magic

**A Brush**

 **With**

 **No Magic**

 **Moving on.**

 **xxx**

 _Based on the decisions one makes, a future will begin to unfold. Set in stone though this future is not, the path it lays will affect those it crosses. For the better or the worst. The actions they take will not be restricted to a sum. Should the Brave Mouse and Curious Kitten choose in error, or purely for their own sakes, a foreseeable future where destruction reigns is nigh._

 _Never forget, my brave, young friends, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Even when your goals seem out of reach, or clouded by doubt, always keep your heads about, and remember what it is you truly fight for. Yes. You will forget. Yes, you will falter. And yes, you will want to submit. In that darkest of moment, search within yourselves. For it is there you will never be led astray._

 **xxx**

It couldn't be. It's just not possible. It must be a fluke, or a shift in the air. She snapped her fingers. Blew as hard as her lungs would allow. Muttered a variety of incantations, chapping her lips. Her brain was on the verge of exploding trying to force her will on an inanimate object. The results were all the same. No matter how hard she tried, how hard she focused, or how fluid her pronunciation - Cecelia's magic wouldn't stir. Never so much as a spark, or a flap of a scrap of paper. However impossible or implausible as it may sound, her magic was gone. Deep down, in the vast depths of that aggravating hole in her soul, she knew. She sensed it long ago. But that one, single part of her couldn't bring her to acknowledge it. Not before...she proved it.

"My magic...it's gone!"

"Gone?! What do you mean gone?!" Mickey's voice broke. How is a feat like that even possible? He won't pretend to know the first thing about magic. But it can't simply disappear out of thin air.

Cecelia shook her head with equal confusion. None of it made sense. Unless… "The hands…" She rumbled. Those monstrous talons that sprouted from Wasteland. "The orb they took out of me." The golden orb they cusped to with great care. A horrible realization turned her blood to ice. "It was my magic. They stole my magic from me!" She shouted in disbelief.

"You can do that?" Mickey breathed in awe.

"It's a very tricky ritual. One with a serious backlash if you mess up a single step." She read about it in a spell book once a while back. Accidentally stumbling upon it when she was passing time. "Tricky or not, someone with a good know how managed it, and they've taken my magic from me!"

"But no one in Wasteland knows how to use magic!" Mickey stressed. He doesn't want their to be any animosity before going to see their friends. "How would they even know how perform something like this?"

"Rituals don't require _magical talent._ Just a lot of patience and privacy." She elucidated grimly. Rituals like what afflicted Cecelia can be best described as voodoo curses. Voodoo isn't a 100% fix for problems, but it causes serious damage. Cecelia isn't true clear on his this ritual would be performed, but the key succeeding is having an object infused with a piece of your intended target. A doll, a brush, anything. "And if you recall, I left my spellbook behind. Anyone could have gotten their hands on it."

Mickey forgot about that. Prescott's holding on to her book for her. "But...but who would want to do this to you?" He whimpered.

"I don't know." Cecelia climbed to her feet, dusting herself off. She growled rabidly, clenching a vein popping fist, "BUT I'M GOING TO KILL PRESCOTT FOR LENDING OUT MY BOOK! GEEZE!" Mickey trembled in place. He's also forgotten how scary she can be. Cecelia marched for a rolling ladder near the bookshelves. It connected the bottom floor with the second. "I don't visit for a while and this happens!" Mickey laughed weakly, following after her. He'll warn everyone to run for the hills when they reach Wasteland. Things are going to get wild real quick.

The brooms showed no signs of being finished with their _work._ Not that Cecelia or Mickey would be able to stop them if they tried. And they weren't going to stop until the whole place is either flooded, or Yensid comes back. She prays the second one happens soon. Regardless, she is SO grounded when he gets back. She'll prolong her visit to Wasteland for as long as she can.

Cecelia pointed to the archway above the tapestry. The way back to the workshop was just through there. No real surprise - but killing Cecelia all the same - water was gushing out of there too. Mickey painted in platforms floating idly left to right. He traversed the gaps first, then Cecelia matched his jumps. She's become a bit more coordinated since earlier. She still feels a little off, though. Mickey was the first to reach the arch. He held onto a pole, extending a hand. Cecelia leaped and grabbed his hand, nodding thankfully as he pulled her over.

A half painted portrait of a golden e-ticket and treasure chest stood in their way. The workshop was just on the other side. Mickey painted it in. The treasure chest shrank away, moving further down an extending hallway. Mickey and Cecelia raced inside, snapping the treasure chest open in mid run. A pin was inside. Nice. Mickey proceeded to thin the wooden wall in front of them. The workshop emerged on the other side. About time. Mickey and Cecelia were about to lose their minds in that labyrinth called a tower.

Mickey climbed on to the chair. Wasteland hadn't filled itself in. He doused the display with paint, not leaving a single blade of grass, or loose stone not painted. A smog of powder blue paint blanketed Wasteland, swirling around the display at amazing speeds. As the smog dissipated, a vibrantly colored Wasteland appeared. As did the cracks Cecelia earlier described. Mickey knew what to expect, he just didn't think it would look this bad. It's terrible.

"Come on!" Mickey grabbed Cecelia's hand, dragging her on to the table. The energy coming from Dark Beauty Castle was still beaming. That's where they'll likely end up. Together they plugged their noses and jumped, swallowed whole by the display.

A rapid spiraling vortex tossed Mickey and Cecelia like corks in an ocean. They were flipped and flailed, thrown around with ease. Jolts shot through their bodies as they bounced off the walls. In the midst of the immense power, pressure was pushing with all its might to drag them down. The entrance they entered from closed behind them. The tunnel itself was collapsing in the farther they fell. A light on the opposite end ignited. Mickey and Cecelia stopped fighting the fall and dove in head first.

The light was growing brighter. Hotter. Mickey and Cecelia threw their arms up against it. The free, mach five fall condensed to a shove through a narrow pipe. Cecelia and Mickey felt the walls closing around them. Static surged through the collapsing walls, and streams shot erratically, widening the approaching light. Mickey twisted and writhed. The brush reacted to the rampant power.

The erratic static streams prickled Cecelia's skin. Her hairs stood on end. Her nerves and bones tingled. Her ear and the tail of her spine were pounding. Electrifying pocks rising from the light burst mercilessly on her forehead. Trickling streams snaked her body head to toe, gathering in an outline. An abundance of energy shaped at two points on her head, and one at the base of her spine. The residual outline dug spiked needles into her skin. Cecelia wrapped her arms to her stomach, tightening in a partial fetal position.

Soon, the sweltering light enveloped Cecelia and Mickey.

 **xxx**

"Hmm…" Gloved hands moved torn curtains aside. Energy striking like a lightning bolt emanated from the spires of Dark Beauty Castle. The dark, sundered clouds circled the beam like a drain, drawn in by its magnetic power. "Interesting…" The bolt broke the barrier separating Wasteland from the cartoon world beyond. There is only one reason to build something with that sort of power. And that is to bring something - or a pair of someone's - on over.

The virulent spire spasmed and contorted. Strobing light teased the conductive energy, gradually thinning it as it made contact with its intended target. "So that is what you have chosen to do." A tongue licked a pair of chapped lips hungrily. The beam eventually lost power, shrinking back to its container within the castle. "So they have decided to summon their mousey hero, and magical kitten once again." The figure cackled maniacally, turning around to a cohort shrouded in the shadows. "Isn't that a wonderful surprise, my friend?" The _friend,_ so he was called, held a sun gold orb in the palm of his hands, lovingly caressing the awe inspiring object.

 **xxx**

Stark, ominous clouds shrouded Dark Beauty Castle, reverberating the halls with a low rumbling thunder. Nothing too out of the ordinary for that particular region. Rolling thunder was as common as dust on a vase. It was easy enough to ignore. Especially when there are bigger problems on the horizon.

Pacing anxiously about the highest tower, Ortensia hissed and murmured edgily. She frequently glare to the door, wanting desperately for SOMEONE to come walking in. And waiting for Mickey and Cecelia was started to make the flower in her cap wither.

Gus watched from the side as she burned a hole in the floor. He doesn't blame her in the least for being restless. Over an hour ago, an earth shattering quake practically broke Mean Street and most of Wasteland into pieces. The ground was uprooted like a weed and torn apart like it was nothing. Quakes aren't uncommon in Wasteland. The thinner in the abyss causes them all the time. But the one the size they experienced is impossible. Nothing that big has ever come close to happening. Oswald was nearly crushed by a falling building on Mean Street because of the quake. Worse still, The Mad Doctor was the one that saved. He says he's back a changed man, and wants to help fix Wasteland from the quakes. Oswald, The Gremlins, and most of the people have bought into his song and dance routine. So much so that Oswald went along with The Mad Doctor to help formulate a plan, and discuss what's happening to Wasteland. To use his beetleworx to remedy the damage. Ortensia and Gus didn't buy it for a second. Which is why they made a TV to connect with Mickey, and have him collect the brush and Cecelia to come and help them. They tried to contact Cecelia as well. She was harder to get ahold of. No electronics where she's from. No word yet on whether or not Mickey's found Cecelia, or where Oswald's been. For now, it was one giant waiting game. And Ortensia was about to lose her mind waiting.

"OOH! Where could he be?" Ortensia squirmed. "He should be back by now!" Gus was worried too. Oswald was taking too long.

Sloshing abruptly muffled oncoming thunder. Ortensia and Gus twisted their heads to the glass ceiling. A vortex tore the stormy sky open. Two figures were shot out in a shriek, crashing through the glass. Both splat to melted messes on the marble floor, and then sprang back full form. Mickey square on his feet, with a dizzy Cecelia on her butt.

"Whoa…" Cecelia dazedly massaged her hair.

"That was a doozy of a landing, huh?" Mickey laughed off the nerves. Then he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"You said it. Hm?" As she rose to her feet, Mickey was looking at her like a ghost. "What?" Her brow knit. Come to think of it, when did he become as tall as her?

Fuzzy fur brushing her fingers caught her off guard. The black ribbon helping with defiant bangs was a shock as well. She gaped blankly, pinching and pulling at a familiar set of ears. She started to beam elatedly. Her hand scrambled reaching behind her back. She grabbed hold of a black cat tail. HER CAT TAIL! And those were cat ears she was feeling. She started giggling animatedly. She was a cat again. Her reflection in the floor stopped her cheering for another moment longer.

"No way…!" Could it really be? She looked herself over.

Black, white, and green plaid skirt, white stocking socks and black dress shoes. The black, sleeveless zip up turtleneck with the detached lace sleeves. Her hair shrank to shoulder height too. It wasn't just her ears and tail that were back. Wasteland's toon magic shrank her back to her ten year old form, complete with the old uniform. Though, technically, the form would be 11. Oh well, tomato -tomahto! Who cares about age.

"Doozy landing, meet doozy entrance!" Cecelia pirouetted, showing off her favored form. Cecelia became attached to her cat persona. She's kind of missed it. Her last couple of visits didn't end with regressing. Must be because she's with Mickey.

"And quite the flamboyant entrance, indeed!" Gus applauded them. "Welcome back, you two! Great to see you both." Ortensia darted past with a squeal. She and Cecelia threw one another into a loving hug, laughing cheerily like the gaggle of girls they were.

"We're sure glad to see you guys too!" Mickey firmly shook Gus's hand.

"No kidding! We've really missed you!" Cecelia held Ortensia's hands. As much as she likes reminiscing, she and Mickey weren't sent an urgent return request for a warm reception. "What exactly is going on? We only have the abridged version." Abridged meaning they know absolutely nothing.

"You both have arrived in the nick of time." Gus praised them, feeling he can relax a bit now. "Wasteland is becoming inert again. And with all the damage from the quake…" He trailed off.

"Quake?" Cecelia remembered the cracks in the display. She stroked her chin pensively. Explains the destruction. _Wasteland has earthquakes?_

"NOT ONLY THAT," Ortensia abruptly bumped Gus out of the way, "But The Mad Doctor is back!"

"HE IS!" Mickey and Cecelia felt chills scale their skin.

 _He's back?!_ Cecelia's mind roared. She veered an venomous hiss to the floor. _So he's the reason._ "Hold on!" Mickey noticed someone was missing. "Where's Oswald?" A good question. If The Mad Doctor's back, shouldn't he be mounting every last defense he has?

"Uh...right here." Oswald nervously announced himself, walking in. Mickey and Cecelia waved in a greeting.

Ortensia tackled him with her signature hug. "You had me so worried!" She scolded him.

"Sorry. I didn't meant to." Oswald held her hands to his chest, a promise to make it up to her. "But I've been talking with the Doc. He came to warn us we're being attacked by evil creatures!"

"You sure he wasn't talking about himself?" Cecelia hissed, angrily stamping her foot. Talking with The Mad Doctor? Has Oswald lost his mind? Has he already forgotten what that maniac tried to do? "You don't get any more evil than him!" She crossed her arms.

"I know...I know…" Oswald bit his tongue on consoling her. Cecelia has every right to not trust him. The Doc hurt him just as badly too. "But, Cecelia, you've gotta listen! He said the creatures are part Blot, part animatronic, AND," _And?_ "All bad…" He cringed under the viable threat. As if Wasteland doesn't have enough problems.

 _Part Blot and Machine?_ Cecelia quirked a brow. She won't deny that doesn't sound good. But going off of The Mad Doctor's word? For all Oswald knows, The Mad Doctor is the one who made those monstrosities. But he seems so set on believing him.

"He is up to something! I just know it!" Ortensia declared. She wasn't falling for his ploy for a second. Gus and Mickey exchanged mutual doubt. With the quakes happening, and the possibility of new creatures threatening Wasteland, The Mad Doctor - to them - had a pretty small window to work with.

"Come on, Ortensia. Doesn't EVERYBODY deserve a second chance?" Oswald pleaded to her. She turned her nose to the air. She wasn't budging. Cecelia knew where she stood. Right beside Ortensia. The Mad Doctor was planning something. And he's the one who stole her magic. Somehow.

Mickey shyly kept his distance, unsure how to rebuke what either of them was saying. Granted, he doesn't trust The Mad Doctor any more than Ortensia or Cecelia. However, Oswald's become a good judge of character. It might be helpful if he and Cecelia see for themselves. "How about we try to get to the bottom of this?" Mickey timidly looked over to Cecelia. She was rankled by the idea of The Mad Doctor's _help_. She sighed and nodded in defeat all the same. Mickey was glad she was coming around. "Where is The Mad Doctor?"

"He's helping with the repairs on Mean Street." Oswald informed him. "But the quakes did a number of the projectors. So we'll have to use the train."

"Oh man!" Cecelia slapped a hand over her eyes, stifling a laugh. "Prescott's head must he popped by now!" The pride he takes in those projectors is frightening.

"It came close!" Gus elbowed her.

"Tell me you're not really okay with this!" Ortensia fumed at Cecelia. She of all people should be fully on her side.

"I'm not. I don't trust that quack as far as I can throw him." Incidentally, with the right spell, she could throw him to Duckburg. Cecelia placed a hand to her shoulder, "But you and I trust Oswald. That should be good enough for now."

Ortensia sighed defeatedly. She can't argue there. "Well, if you REALLY insist on going to see The Mad Doctor-" The castle shook with a vengeance. Everyone braced themselves. It was one of the quakes. And this one felt like a doozy. The walls cracked and crumbled at the seams. Chunks rained on their heads. The floors fracturing. "HURRY!" Ortensia dragged Cecelia by the arm. "Let's go before the whole castle falls down!" She got no argument from the guys. They were in a sprint. A gaping hole opened in the corridor. "Hurry, Boys!" Ortensia and Cecelia slid on a sharp turn. "The place is crumbling!"

"We're coming!" Oswald blurted. He, Mickey, and Gus toppled on one another trying to keep up.

The vibrating ground made running almost impossible. Not for Gus, but for everyone else. Their feet were being ripped from under them, making them stumble and have to crawl back into their sprint. Toes tripping on chunks of broken pillars. Balance being lost, and bodies rebounding off walls. Using their hands to shield their heads wasn't helping their situation either. The chunks weren't too big, but they'd leave a nasty lump if they connected. The rampaging shaking was weakening the floor. One wrong step and they would fall for who knows how far.

"ORTENSIA, LOOK OUT!" Cecelia charged. She grabbed Ortensia by the waist and dove. Oswald spread his arms, skidding to a halt with Mickey and Gus. A large hole opened in the floor. Cecelia rolled off of Ortensia. The pair were breathless in astonishment. To think they could be at the bottom with the rubble. "Are you alright?" She helped Ortensia up.

"Thanks to you. You always seem to save me."

"What can I say? I'm good at this." Cecelia flexed her chest, grinning triumphantly. Oswald and Mickey double jumped to their side while Gus hovered over. "When you guys mentioned the quakes, I wasn't expecting this." She meant the holes in the floor, walls, and ceiling.

"And they keep getting worse!" Oswald wailed. Another quake jolsted the castle to prove his point. Pillars molded to the walls popped off, taking half the walls with it.

"The castle's falling down! We have to go!" Ortensia howled. She and the others began their race to escape.

"Cecelia, don't you have a spell for quakes or something?!" Oswald begged.

"Sorry, Oz! Rule one of magic: Don't mess with mother nature!" Earthquakes are natural. Messing with them could have cataclysmic consequences. Plus, Yensid tried to turn a rainy day sunny once. Mother Nature turned his tower into a woodland sanctuary for an entire spring for three years. "And...there's...something I need to tell you guys-" Mickey and Oswald tripped on splinted flooring. Gus crashed into them. "GUYS!" Cecelia twisted on her stop.

Ortensia saw shadows shifting past a stain glass window. She followed it up. A tower was tipping. "CECELIA!" Ortensia tackled Cecelia into the adjacent corridor. The tower came crashing down, taking a portion of floor away from Ortensia and Cecelia. A mountain of rubble blocked the girls from the boys. And another skylight was being added to the remodeling schedule.

"Phew. Guess that makes us even." Cecelia dusted herself off.

"I'll say." Ortensia and Cecelia might be able to be jovial, but the issue remains that they have no way of reaching the boys. A whole tower and a part of the ceiling sealed the way back up tight. Not to mention there was a three story drop blowing cold air up their skirts. "Do you think the boys are okay?"

"I sure hope so." They weren't able to see them during the crash. Suddenly...

" _ORTENSIA!_ " Oswald was heard crying.

" _CECELIA!_ " Gus wailed.

" _ARE YOU GIRLS OKAY?_ " Mickey came next. Their voices were sweet music to their ears.

"GUYS! CAN YOU HEAR US?" Cecelia called back. No response. The debris was too thick. No sense wasting their breath. "At least we know they're okay."

"I know!" Ortensia plopped a fist in her palm. "You can use a spell to-"

"No I can't!" Cecelia drearily came clean before she got her hopes up. Ortensia hummed confused. Cecelia sighed resignedly. "Ortensia…" Cecelia shamefully hugged her elbows. "My magic's gone."

 **xxx**

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HER MAGIC'S GONE?!" Oswald and Gus shouted.

Mickey wiggled a finger in his ringing ears. Oswald and Gus proposed Cecelia using her magic to move the debris like Ortensia. Mickey told them the bad news. They're taking it surprisingly well. "I don't know the particulars," He smoothed his ears out, snapping them like rubber, "But someone or something came OUT-OF-WASTELAND and just took the magic right out of her!"

"How is that even possible?" Gus denied. "Magic isn't something you can just take!"

"Not only that, no one here is capable of magic!" Oswald added.

"Cecelia called it a ritual, and she's 100% convinced no one would need magic to perform it." Mickey clarified ominously. "All they need are time, privacy, and patience."

Oswald and Gus's jaw slacked with absolute dismay. Simple means for what sounds like a complicate assault. Worse still, someone from Wasteland actually launched an attack...against one of their friends?! "Who would do such a thing?!" Gus sulked. "And why?"

 **xxx**

"The Mad Doctor! He's the only culprit who would do this!" Cecelia frothed at the mouth. It has to be him. He did it out of revenge, and so she wouldn't be of any use when he launches his attack. "I left my spellbook here. It wouldn't be beyond him to steal it and use it."

"You don't really think he's competent enough for something like that?" The Mad Doctor is a genius of the highest order when involved with mechanics and other technology. Magic seemed way out of his wheelhouse.

"Competent or not, this is the same guy who played god and revived a deadly ink stain!" The same ink stain that harnessed her magic for a scary amount of time. "I don't doubt a single ounce of his skill set right now!"

"Well we're going to find out soon enough! Let's head for the train." Ortensia motioned the march with a hand.

"How are we going to get there?" Cecelia doesn't want to be Debbie Downer. The way ahead wasn't exactly free of obstacle. The floor was ready to give with the slightest gust of wind. "We have to head down, but…" She has an allergy to falling farther than a table.

"Oh don't worry. There are plenty of routes to the train." Ortensia's brow wriggled.

"Really?"

Ortensia jumped and grabbed hold of of rope. A tapestry was folded up, revealing a door. Cecelia pursed her lips, surprised by how many doors this place hides. "Follow me." Ortensia led her to a narrow hallway. Cecelia closed the door behind them. A paranoia she has.

Torches lit a winding staircase. Cecelia was impressed it was in tact. The inert or thinned areas were highlighted by shadows. Ortensia skipped across those as smoothly as she glided down the stairs. Cecelia was fumbling around like a fawn learning how to walk. Guess this is the price for going on dates rather than training. Ortensia's changed a lot in the last year. Taking the reins, leading the charge, and braving dangerous terrain. A quake could bring the whole stairway crashing down, and she wasn't flinching. Her fearless persona was inspiring. Good. Cecelia was hoping for an adventurous gal-pal. Although, she should air on some side of caution.

"Here we are." Ortensia opened another door. The stairway brought them to the library. "From here we should be able to the train."

"Wow…" Cecelia pranced in a circle admiring the library. What the quake left of it anyway. The refurbishments showed in what survived. If she didn't know better, she'd think they installed an entirely different library. "Wish I could have seen this place before the quake."

"It was beautiful! The gremlins worked so hard on it." Ortensia will never be able to thank them enough. There wasn't the tiniest trace of the fire that nearly swallowed the whole the castle. For the moral and spirits of the citizens of Wasteland, it never happened. "All that work for nothing."

"Not for nothing." Cecelia pat her on the back, heading for the exit. "Once we figure out what's causing the quakes, repairs can begin again." No small feat, Cecelia won't take that lightly. As soon as she gets her magic back, she's helping them fix everything the quakes destroyed.

The main hall outside the library would be able to take them directly to the train station. With any luck, the quake won't have barred their way. They'd have to hurry. The door handles were stuck in place. Ortensia and Cecelia jiggled the knobs as hard as they could. They wouldn't move. Both rammed a shoulder, digging in their feet. The doors felt like they would give, then stop short, bumping against a solid object. The girls stopped before they hurt themselves. Obviously the quake barricaded the door. That way was out.

"Is there another way?" Cecelia prayed.

"Not from in here." Ortensia regretted to tell her.

Cecelia refuses to give up now. Not when they've come so far. The train station was located on the west side of the castle. The same location of the library they were currently in. Cecelia ran to the massively wide, tile pane window. At the very least, if she could see where the train would be, she'll know how close they are. Bars that held the sheets of glass in place were dramatically twisted and gnarled, snapped out of place from the collapse. Cecelia tiptoed around the large pieces of glass, skipping up the stairs. She inspected the shattered window for loose glass or rubble. Carefully leaning to the stone window sill, Cecelia hung half her body out. The wind was powerful from that height. Cecelia brushed hair behind her ear, squinting to fend off her eyes drying. She spied a set of tracks leading off to seemingly nowhere. She followed the tracks in, finding the station where the boys were heading.

"That's it there, right?"

Ortensia wiggled beside her. "Yep. What are you...THINKING?!" Cecelia climbed out and onto a narrow ledge. The wind was stronger than she nature has a poor sense of timing. "CECELIA! GET BACK IN HERE!" Ortensia screeched.

"If we can't get to the station inside, we'll have to go this way!" The rooftops of the castle were fined triangles. Difficult to traverse unless you're a trapeze artist. However, the roof tiles are just smooth enough to slide on, and the rain gutters were sturdy. It should be out of the question to climb down to the station. They just need to watch their step. "What are you waiting for? Wings?"

"Cecelia! This is crazy!" Ortensia protests as she climbs out onto the ledge, shimmying over to Cecelia. "We want to get to the train station in one piece!" She stressed.

"Then watch your step and follow me!" Cecelia sat to the ledge, hanging her legs to the tiles. Planting her hands, and keeping one heel bent, Cecelia slid rapid. Her hands burned as she tried to slow down. Her foot cramped trying to guide her. Ortensia closed her eyes, unable to look as the ledge appeared. Much to the pair's relief, Cecelia stopped on a dime when her feet met the rain gutter. "See! Told you I'd be fine!"

"CECELIA! I SWEAR I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" Ortensia shrieked. Cecelia cackled menacingly. She's cute when she's angry. Guttural rumbling reverberated the rain gutter and loosening tiles. Ortensia and Cecelia froze like deer in headlights. The rumble grew louder and louder. The vibrating graduated to shaking. The towers jerked. Stones fell loose. "QUAKE! HOLD ON!" Ortensia grabbed hold of a bar. Cecelia planted her stomach to the roof. The quake was a violent aftershock, trembling the ground and shooting up the castle. A loud _BOOM_ was heard pretty close to their location. The castle's upper levels received the most vigorous of jostles. Ortensia's grip slipped, and she tumbled down the the roof.

"I'VE GOT YOU!" Cecelia snatched her hand. Ortensia fell off the edge, dragging Cecelia with her. In one split instance, Cecelia gripped the rain gutter. The bolts and clamps came unhinged, being the gutter. Cecelia and Ortensia dangled hand in hand off the roof. A perilous drop to bushes their only salvation. "Hold on! Hold on!" Cecelia begged. Ortensia held on with both hands. She wasn't light. And that gutter wasn't built for people. _Why now?_ She wept. _Why would my magic have to be taken now?!_

There was nowhere for them to go. The gutter was grinding, weakening under the weight. Should another quake hit now, they were done for. Taking the roof was a horrible idea. Cecelia might kill herself before Ortensia has a chance. If her arm doesn't give out. Her fingers were going numb from lack of circulation. Cecelia wished she had her magic. A wind spell, or a levitation spell - any spell - would be able to save them and get them to the train station. But no. She's useless when her friend needs her. She might as well let go and be done with it. Or not.

"Ortensia! Over there!" An adjacent piping of the gutter was running down the other wall. A thicket of vines was wrapped to the pipe and stretched along the wall. Perfect for reaching the castle wall just beyond it. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Ortensia mustered a breath. She shifted her body weight, rocking back and forth. Cecelia swayed her arm, adding oomph to the swing. Ortensia pumped her legs for momentum. "One...two...THREE!" She thrust her body and Cecelia threw her as hard as she could. Ortensia made the jump, safely grabbing on to the vines. If she wasn't so terrified, she'd find that fun. She motioned Cecelia over. She shuffled along the gutter a ways, then dropped onto the vines. "Alright. Let's hurry before we're late."

"Right…" Cecelia breathed.

"I have to admit, this is more fun than I gave it credit for."

"If not a little terrifying."

"Never do this again."

"Agreed!" They spit shook on it. Too gross. Another activity they won't soon do.

 **xxx**

The helmet to an automaton flew into the air. A Spatter working controls on the inside gargled furiously. It cursed and screamed at it's malfunctioning controls, jerking the levers and smashing the buttons. Nothing was working. As the Spatter was about to jump ship and run, Mickey doused him with thinner, melting him to a puddle outside its suit. He, Gus, and Oswald exhaled with relief.

"That's the last of them." Gus breathed. Two more Spatter puddles were behind them. Those ones were bad enough. This...Blotworx contraption was a nightmare.

A few seconds after that aftershock, another of the castle's towers came crashing down. The gardens Gus, Oswald, and Mickey wander into was decimated beyond all repair. Ortensia wasn't going to like it one bit. She loved that garden. The trio managed to maneuver around the tower, only to be intercepted by the Spatters and the creature they assumed was the Blotworx Oswald heard about.

"I can't believe these guys snuck in!" Oswald voiced his outrage. After The Blot and Mad Doctor's invasion, Oswald ensured extra security was included in the rebuild. Thicker walls, limited access points - the whole nine yards. "The quakes must have opened holes for them!"

"We'll worry about that later!" Gus worked on the locks sealing the garden doors. Several clicks thumping the wood. "We must reach the train!" Oswald and Mickey rushed over, helping Gus push the doors open. They flew open with ease. The destroyed train station appeared before them. Cecelia and Ortensia were amongst the rubble.

"There you are!" Ortensia gasped.

"What took you guys so long?" Cecelia teased.

"Ortensia? Cecelia? How did you both get here?" Question mark inflated around Oswald.

Ortensia and Cecelia giggled impishly. "You're not the only one who has adventures, you know." Ortensia taunted.

"Isn't she the best!" Oswald swooned. An aftershock cut the chatter short.

"Save it, you two!" Cecelia growled at the rubble blocking the tunnel. "We need a way to clear the rubble!"

"I've got an idea!" Oswald burst his lightbulb. He ran over to a machine by the tracks. Pulling on a glowing switch, a pair of doors flapped open, producing a set of fireworks. "We can use these to blow the debris off the tracks."

"OSWALD!" Ortensia screeched. "I thought I told you to get rid of those!" After an incident they had, Ortensia didn't want to see another firework as long as she lived.

"Be glad he didn't!" Cecelia advocated for him. She and Mickey dragged the fireworks, tossing them onto the track.

Oswald took out his remote. "Stand back! This'll be big!" He hovered a finger above the button.

Gus and Mickey scooped up Cecelia and Ortensia, seeking cover behind a pile of rubble. Oswald pushed the button. Electricity conducted at the antenna, striking the pack of fireworks. The wicks lit on contact. The fireworks bounced rampantly, exploding in an abundant array of colors. Flares swirled dizzily. Flowers darted across the ground. The rockets launched from the pack, blowing the rubble to smithereens and clearing the way.

Mickey and Cecelia were blown away. Figuratively speaking, of course. "Where were these when I clearing the junk from grandpa's closet?" Cecelia envied.

"Probably the same place when Minnie asked me to clean her garage." Mickey's brow twitched irately.

"ALL ABOARD!" Gus bellowed.

The train coasted into the station. The steam engine was hot and ready to take off whenever everyone was ready. Without a moment's hesitation, Gus and Oswald carried Ortensia and Cecelia on board. Mickey got in a running start. Gus and Oswald hauled him on. All passengers were on board. The train darted on that racks just as another quake started to hit.

 **xxx**

" _NOW ENTERING MEAN STREET STATION!_ " The announcer blared.

What Mickey and Cecelia saw as the train stopped at the station sank their hearts. Half of Mean Street was...GONE! Torn apart by the quake and sent drifting miles apart across the foggy abyss. Frayed edges of rock, dirt, and pavement where the world projectors should be. The train station was the only building really standing on it's own. Save for the trench of odd colored water in the middle of the road spilling into the abyss. No one was going to ask where the robot head came from. Half of the Haberdasher's shop dropped when Mean Street broke apart. Matching the half of his mind that he lost. The museum was being held together by grit, spit, and a whole lot of wooden planks and duct tape. A rockslide of brick and spackle caved in on a portion of city hall. The rest was hard to describe with words. To put it bluntly, Wasteland was a mess. Mickey and Cecelia feared what the rest of the regions looked like.

"Gosh…" Mickey rubbed his arm. "I didn't think Mean Street would be this...broken." For lack of a better word.

"This is worse than anything I imagined." Cecelia's head sank in her shoulders. Another time where her magic would be a great boon. "Sorry I can't be of more help."

"Don't worry about it." Gus stroked her cheek. "You're a greater help than you give yourself credit for." Cecelia smiled gratefully. Gus had a way with words. Her smile faded from spotting beetleworx on the other side of the trench.

Swaying his hands like the conductor of an orchestra, The Mad Doctor monitored the relief effort undergone by his mechanical marvels. The spider beetleworx worked on sealing the cracks in the ground. The bunny children have a bad habit of not watching where they are going, and often get stuck inside. Others were working on the buildings. Cardboard boxes were going to have to replace windows for the time being, but at least it'll keep the chilly night air out. The rest of the Beetleworx were sweeping harmful debris out of the way.

"Hey, Doc!" Oswald greeted warmly. The Mad Doctor cupped his hands, smiling adoringly to the group who came to meet him. Mickey and Cecelia put their guard up. The brush was on Mickey's back, ready to be drawn, but not before The Mad Doctor made his move. Cecelia had to be held back so she didn't claw his face off.

The Mad Doctor hovered in his contraption, putting hands to the heart everyone knows doesn't exist. **"** _ **Cecelia and Mickey do not trust me, yes I know...**_ **"** He startled them coming in so close. The singing was unnerving as well. **"** _ **I was an evil, greedy toon. But that was long ago!**_ **"** He draped an arm in misery to his forehead. **"** _ **And now this mad, mad doctor is no longer really maad...**_ **"** He dropped to his knees. The beetleworx slid him forward. Mickey gestured opened palms, with Cecelia shielding a sneer and pointed thumb. Oswald waved his hands. He doesn't know what brought it on either. **"** _ **I've turned myself AROUND,**_ **"** He snatched up Cecelia by the hand, holding her in a waltz, " _ **If I could help you, I'd be GLAD!**_ " He sent her into a spin into Mickey's arm. " _ **But danger...is coming! AND BLOTWORX IS THEIR NAME!**_ " He emphasised the danger of these new creatures. " _ **The Blotlings made some weapons! It's a shame, yes, it's a shame!**_ " He whimpered, sliding his hands down his cheeks. " _ **THE WEAPONS,**_ " He aimed fingers at Mickey and Oswald, " _ **THE EARTHQUAKES,**_ " He started falling behind a cringing Cecelia, dropping onto Ortensia and Gus, " _ **It's not a happy day!**_ " They tossed him off. " _ **Wasteland is in danger I would say...**_ " His face contorted in pain. He wrapped arms to his stomach.

"Hey, Doc! You okay?" The music stopped. The Mad Doctor ogled Oswald strangely. The Rabbit was baffled by the silence, then had a horrifying thought as to why. The Mad Doctor tempted him with a curling palm. He knows Oswald has it in him. Even though he really didn't want to. " _ **Doc-are-you-o-kay...**_ " He cringed. The Mad Doctor applauded him.

" _ **I'll drop Beetleworx off!**_ " His hover dome swooped him up under the legs. " _ **There's much they need to mend!**_ " The dome closed around. " _ **We're off to help the other lands!**_ " His beetleworx herded to him, jumping on the dome. " _ **Till then, good luck, MY FRIENDS...**_ " He ended his number rocketing off in the distance.

"I still don't trust him!" Ortensia declared again.

"You're not the only one, Sister!" Cecelia spat. "Anyone who sings like that HAS to be up to something!"

Public opinion of The Mad Doctor stayed stagnant on the 50-50 margin. The battling sides are support vs opposition. That much is clear. Cecelia and Ortensia are holding their places on the opposition. Unfortunately, ill feelings towards The Mad Doctor were irrelevant. He will be dealt with at a later time, make no mistake about that. For now, he'll be given a wide berth so long as he behaves.

"I think our first order of business is to get the projectors working again." Gus proposed. Butterflies bloomed in Cecelia's stomach. "Last I hear,d Jamface was in Mean Street North. He'll know what to do."

The butterflies died in Cecelia's stomach. "Jamface? Why not Prescott?" She was kind of hoping to see him.

"Oh yes! I forgot to tell you!" Gus cursed his old fogy mind. "Prescott stopped working on the projectors a while ago. He's devoted his time to making amplifiers, and gags in the Gag Factory." The previously mentioned item scrunched Gus's nose with revulsion.

That doesn't sound like something Prescott would voluntarily do. "When exactly did he give up on the projectors?"

"Let's see...about...five months ago." A lump lodged in Cecelia's throat. _Uh-oh._ She cringed.

"Well why don't you all go ahead." Ortensia encouraged Cecelia and the boys. "I'll stay here until the OsTown projector starts working."

"Are you sure?" Cecelia asked sadly.

"I'm sure. I've had enough excitement to last me three lifetimes." And, as a fellow feline, she has another six life times to enjoy. Cecelia respected her wish. Coming close to falling to one's death will take the wind out of anyone. "But you be careful…" She pleaded, cupping Oswald's hands in hers, "I just know that Mad Doctor is up to something." Oswald eased her worries with a kiss to the forehead. Super effective. She was a sucker for him. "Good luck, Hunny Bunny!" She poked his nose. She sauntered on her way to the museum. She can find something to occupy her time there.

"Hunny Bunny?" Cecelia snorted.

"Don't make me bring up Prescott's nickname for you." Oswald threatened. Cecelia found a button in her pocket and buttoned her lip. Round one was his.

"Oswald…" Mickey moaned uneasily. "Do ya really think The Mad Doctor is good now?" He read the minds of Gus and Cecelia verbatim.

"I sure hope so, Mickey. I really do." Oswald moseyed with doubt weighing on his shoulders.

Mickey was about to follow him. Cecelia was staring troubled to a lone blade of grass. He asked Gus to go on without him. He can handle her. "Hey, Cecelia. What's on your mind?" He touched her shoulder.

"Mickey…" She rasped with guilt. "I don't want to doubt Oswald…" She had to make that clear first and foremost. Mickey sensed the _but_ in her decree. "But I can't trust The Mad Doctor. Not after what he did." Not after the nightmare he and The Blot put her through. She knows it's selfish. The Blot and Doctor victimized everyone. But she refuses to believe someone like that changes over night.

"You're not alone." Mickey reassured her. He doesn't trust The Mad Doctor either. "But…" He turned Cecelia to Oswald, having her admire the bunny helping a small child to not cry, "You know Oswald and The Mad Doctor were close friends once."

"They were? Oh yeah." She's heard that story before.

"We don't have to trust The Mad Doctor. But we should at least trust in Oswald." Cecelia was feeling like a hypocrite. She preached the same words to Ortensia a short while ago. At the time it was so Ortensia wouldn't be too cross with Oswald for opening his heart to others and learning to trust. "Let's be supportive of him. Can you do that?"

"Yeah. I can." She grudgingly agreed. Mickey nodded appreciatively, heading for Oswald and Gus by the sewer manhole. "Doesn't mean I'll like it."

 **To be continued**

 **God the song part...I'm too tired.**

 **Goodnight.**


	4. Becoming Reacquainted With Wasteland

**Becoming Reacquainted**

 **With**

 **Wasteland**

 **This is just going to be a filler chapter full of talking and stuff. Just a way to set the tone for the next chapter.**

 **Moving on.**

 **xxx**

Hisses of starved oxygen exhausted from a pit of molten magma. The smoldering concoction curdled with thick bubbles. Spurts of magma exploded in different directions. The vat bobbed in a regular rhythm. The head of a mechanical creature brushed the surface.

The beetleworx dome touched down to a cold metal floor. The suction cup feet firmly fastened in place, the legs shrinking in their slots. Panels on the underside of the dome and on the floor The glass dome swished open, sealed air hissing from the hydraulic hinges. Steps extending from a slot in the front. The Mad Doctor pranced gleefully down the steps, chuckling and humming darkly. He finished with leaping pirouette, throwing his hands up with a malevolent howl of laughter.

"I COULDN'T HAVE PLANNED THIS MORE PERFECTLY IF I TRIED!" He held his splitting stomach. He twisted and squeezed in wild cheer, thrusting fists in the air as he skipped about. "BOTH OF THEM! THOSE FOOLS SUMMONED BOTH OF THEM!" The cavern he hid within echoed with his boasting. This was all playing according to plan. Not the slightest deviation.

The Earthquakes tearing Wasteland asunder from crust to surface. The Mad Doctor's reappearance after a year long absence in obscurity. Oswald placing absolute faith in an old friend. These are the powder kegs. Regardless of his proclamation of returning as a _changed man,_ suspicions of his true intentions weren't hidden. Ortensia, Gus, and likely a handful of others who did not believe a word of his song do not trust him to save their world from ultimate destruction. This is the powder poured within the kegs. Next, serving as the wick that will guide the flare to the combustible substance - With his own two eyes, he saw the stream connecting the Cartoon and Toon Worlds. The barrier being torn open by the hope alighting gateway. There was no call for strenuous pondering that those fools in the castle were summoning Mickey and Cecelia. All that need be done now is to light the fuse and watch it burn. A test of patience for the explosion that will bring him his ultimate prize.

"So much work! So much work to be done!" The Mad Doctor cackled, rubbing his palms together. He clamped his hands to his mouth, stopping himself from getting too carried away. "But I have to be careful! Or else I risk fumbling at the finish line. Just like you did, my deceased friend!" He mocked the dearly departed Blot. As his plans are going to take quite a bit of time, he's going to idle. Help Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald along where need be. "I am a changed man, after all." He flicked his collar boastfully. "I cannot behave to greedily."

 **xxx**

' _This mad, Mad Doctor is no longer really mad.'_

Cecelia spat venomously. An absolute load of crap. The whole thing. The Mad Doctor turning to the side of good? Next there will be an announcement that Tremaine and The Evil Queen have banded together to apologize for their heinous behavior towards their step-daughters. _PFFT!_ The Underworld and Hades are likely to freeze twice before either of those happen. NO! Her mother will rise from Hell as it's freezing before that ever happens. The Mad Doctor hasn't changed. Not one bit. Cecelia can see it in his beady little eyes. There's something devious afoot. The earthquakes, and her magic being stolen are just the beginning. From the tips of her ears to the tip of her tail, Cecelia can feel disaster approaching.

' _I've turned myself around. If I can help you, I'd be glad._ '

The Mad Doctor's inane singing flooded her mind. The man can carry a tune. She'll grant him that bit of optimism. Only making him all the more suspicious. A singing villain is always up to no good. _He's lying! Straight through his teeth!_ Cecelia seethed in her mind. ' _Danger is coming. Blotworx is their name!_ ' The only real danger to Wasteland left on a flying dome. Blaming Blotlings and Beetleworx creations is just a farce. _That monster is behind this chaos!_ Her magic, the quakes, the stink permeating the air - The Mad Doctor is behind it all. He must have known once the quakes started that Oswald and the others would call for her and Mickey. Cecelia needs to get her magic back. Without it, she is of no use to anyone. Halting his plans is almost impossible. Almost, Mickey still has the brush. He stole her magic in anticipation of her arrival since it was virtually impossible to grab the brush. _And the way he did it...was with my Spellbook._

Cecelia left her spellbook with Prescott before leaving last year. A memento to commemorate their relationship. It was a promise that she would be back soon to visit him. Since she has a heart, traveling between Wasteland and Yensid's workshop is child's play. She always worried she wouldn't have a heart after leaving. Prescott had a unique talent for making her heart explode in her chest on their dates. He may not show it often, but he's a sucker of a romantic. Cecelia's the bigger sucker for always falling for it. Although, for the life of her, she can't figure out why she never turned into her cat form then, but did now? She was always in her adult form. Was it because of Mickey? That wouldn't make sense. Mickey wasn't with her the first time. The first time she changed was because The Blot abducted her. She wasn't abducted, but a piece of her was. Is being abducted the key to her transformation? Is it the danger, and Wasteland is transforming her into a form better equipped for it? Or... _Curious kitten?_ Yensid always commented on her overbearing curiosity.

"CECELIA! LOOK OUT!"

Her foot slipped on weakened pavement. Her back scraped on a rough dirt wall. She tumbled hard where the wall curved, face planting to the solid metal chin of the robot head. Why the heck there was a robot's head in a pit was irrelevant. She just wanted the ringing to stop. "Ow…" She was seeing stars. Or were those birds. Whichever one whistles. Gus, Mickey, and Oswald ran to the ledge fretfully. Cecelia's arm waved wobbly, "I'm okay…" She groaned. Thank goodness she was tough skinned. Otherwise she'd have more bruises than the unflattering swelling to her face. The thin pool streaming to the extending trench did nothing to cushion her fall.

Gus swooped hands under her arms, saving her from the pit. "Are you alright?!" She laughed deliriously, her head bobbing around as it tried to steady. The whole of her face was red. Mickey and Oswald cringed, feeling the sting. "You've gotta watch where you're going now. The quakes have done a real number on Mean Street." He slapped a slab of meat on her face. "And everywhere else in Wasteland."

"Thanks for the notice!" She growled under the meat. She leered at it. A pork roast. Maybe she can thaw it and cook it with potatoes.

"The quake caused this too?!" Mickey gasped. Mean Street, or what's left of it, was barely being held together with grit, spit, duct tape, and plywood. Buildings were partly collapsed, and either sliding off the edge or tipping side ways.

"I'm afraid they get worse throughout Wasteland." Gus murmured somberly. "The main quake is what caused a grand majority of the damage. The aftershocks are what caused the most significant of damage."

"Thinner was brought to the surface, eating away at the ground." Oswald pointed to the building sinking into the slumping dirt. "Foundations are being made unstable. Buildings are collapsing in on themselves every day."

"How long has this been going on?" Mickey feared to ask.

"Two weeks now." Oswald's shoulders sank.

"Two weeks?!" Cecelia blurted in shock. Her mind couldn't wrap around it. This is what two weeks worth of damage looks like in Wasteland? In the real world this is at least month's worth of damage. And it's bringing thinner and whatever's on Cecelia to the surface. Sticky liquid drenched her clothing, pooling where she was standing. She smoothed her shirt and skirt. The liquid was stubborn. "What is this stuff, by the way? It doesn't feel like water?" She ground it between her fingers.

"You fell into a Guardian Pool." Gus happily clarified. He glanced to Mickey's brush. "Depending on his use of paint or thinner, Mickey can summon the Guardians of Wasteland to aid him."

"Guardians…? Oh yeah, I remember them." Cecelia beamed. Those adorable puff balls floating around. She mistook them for fireflies once. "They're the little magical spirits. This is one of the pools?" She doesn't recall seeing one the last time she was there. "Has this always been here?"

"Yes and no." Gus pondered how best to explain. "The Guardian Pools are the lifeblood of Wasteland, flowing through the underground veins throughout the entire world." Even as the streaming pool poured to the clouded abyss surrounding Mean Street, it will evaporate and return to its cycle. Always fueling Wasteland, always preserving their home. "There are reservoirs and pools scattered across Wasteland, but there's never been one in Mean Street. The quakes have forced them to the surface everywhere."

"A bad thing, I'm guessing." Not necessarily bad, but not good either. If the pools are being driven to the surface, the quakes are causing more than superficial damage. Wasteland may very well fall apart if this continues. The Guardians to receive the brunt of the punishment.

A resounding pop came from the sky. Cecelia and the others looked up. A plate landed flat to Mickey's head. Gus, Cecelia, and Oswald cringed. A towering lump sprouted on his head. She grabbed a band aide from thin air, placing it to the tender spot. "Where the Heck did that come from?!" And if it's going to happen again, she'd like to have a helmet. She's been hurt enough today.

"That's something else completely separate." Oswald chuckled nervously. He should have warned her and Mickey about that. He stared nostalgically to the sky. "You see, every now and again, things from the Cartoon World will fall into here." Cecelia snatched a helmet off a passing biker as a measure. Mickey growled at the smart coward. Oswald pointed to the observatory where the Gremlin Copernicus was entering. He waved to them as he entered. "We've been trying to find the connection that lets them pass. Hopefully we'll figure it out and be able to visit you guys one of these times."

"We might be in the hospital by that time." Cecelia massaged her throbbing head. The biker snatched his helmet back. Falling debris from the other world. "As if my head doesn't hurt enough!" Her forehead was pounding. Mickey doesn't feel any better. He shoved the lump down.

Oswald poked at their tender spots. "Maybe The Doc can take a look at that knot on your heads." He joked.

Mickey's chest tightened. Cecelia's ears drooped. "Right...The Doctor…" She seethed. The hair on her tail fuzzed.

"Cecelia?" Oswald titled his head.

Mickey shied away, rubbing the back of his head. Cecelia mustered a breath, coming out with it. "I don't suppose The Doc showed up two weeks ago, too."

"It was after the first quake hit." Gus rumbled with similar disconcertion.

"How convenient!" She bit.

"Come on! You guys don't think he caused the quakes, do you?" Oswald voiced how ridiculous they sound. "Oswald, are you sure you can trust him? After everything he's done?!" Gus shouldn't be shocked by the blunt question, but the scornful tone chilled him.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Cecelia." Oswald will never forget what The Mad Doctor has done. He surely will never make light of what he and The Blot did to Mickey and Cecelia. "Sounds to me like he's had plenty of chances and blew every single one of them!"

"I know The Doc's done terrible things in the past. But he wouldn't be trying to help fix Wasteland if he wasn't true to his word."

Unfiltered hatred caused an icy fire in her dagger filled gaze. Her balled fists shook, her blood boiling. "His word is a poisonous as he is." She mumbled in a rumble. An expectation of a crack in the ground, or something exploding put the trio on edge. "We can't believe a word that come out of that gap toothed mouth!"

"We also can't hold past crimes over someone's head the rest of their lives! Especially when they're sincere about changing and making up for them!" Oswald locked a glare to Mickey and Cecelia. The pair went rigid, clearing their throats uncomfortably. Charring bullies alive, and causing a thinner tidal wave nailed them to the wall of ne'er do wells with second chances. They suddenly felt like hypocrites. "I want to believe in him, you guys." Oswald was talking to Gus too. He's aware he and Ortensia don't trust The Mad Doctor either. Oswald stood in the center of them, pleading their ear. "If The Mad Doctor is telling the truth, and he wants to fix Wasteland, I want to help him. I won't ask you to trust him. But will you trust me?"

"Of course we will!" Mickey blurted.

"Do you really have to ask?!" Gus scolded him.

"Anything for you, Ozzie!" Cecelia blushed.

"Thanks you guys!" Oswald beamed. He's one lucky guy.

"OH, ENOUGH ALREADY!" An obnoxious man bellowed. Mickey and Cecelia knew that voice. It was making their stomachs curl. _Step-clop, step,-clop_ bounced the four. The group spun around and cringed. Big Bad Pete stomped up to them, knuckles burrowing in his hips. "All o' dis sweet talk is givin' me my 20th cavity!" And to think they were having such a great day. His back eyes scrolled to Mickey and Cecelia. "Well, well, well! Look who decided to show up!" The two were pried off the ground by the scruff. "Mickey De Mouse, and Cecelia De Cat! Shouldn't you two be chasin' each other around someone's living room!" He cackled, slyly shifting his brow at the cheap cliche.

"Hi, Pete." Mickey moaned.

"Nice to see you again." Cecelia's brow twitched irately. Another antagonist joining the production _No. No way this moron did it._

"Duh feelin' ain't mutual!" He dropped them on their hides, folding his arms. Not even remotely a soft landing. "Tanks tuh you mutts bein' here, all us hard workin' toons are gonna be put outta work!"

"What work?!" Gus roared. "You just slept in your barrel while the rest of us slaved away putting everything back together!" That moronic cut out of his survived the quake to be proof of his laziness.

"I don't mean repairs, ya nut!" He smushed Gus to the shape of a hubcap. He flexed his chest, showing off the shiny badge on his chest. _Marshall Big Bad Pete._ This had to be a joke. "Since duh quakes and dose beetle-blot things, people have been lookin' to us Petes for protection and stuff!" He slammed a fist to the badge on his chest. He was named as Wasteland's lead authority during these times of crisis. "We ain't gonna be retired just because you two decided to come back for another hurrah!" Mickey and Cecelia broke in a sweat, blinking in disbelief. They looked to Gus and Oswald. Their grim expression proved it. Big Bad as a Marshall. And the rest of the Petes are working with him. The Underworld has frozen over. "Listen up! I'm only gonna warn ya both this ONE TIME! Stay-outta-our-way! YA GOT DAT!" He alternated jabbing their chests. Their eyes watered under his foul breath.

"We got dat!" They both moaned, plugging their noses. He's putting too much garlic and liverwurst on his sandwiches.

"Good!" Big Bad tromped along, heading for City Hall.

"You really named him as Marshall?!" Mickey cursed Oswald.

"No. He named himself. And the rest of the Petes backed him up."

"Where are the unwanted thugs, anyway?" Cecelia asked. She hasn't seen any of them since they arrived. She sort of scared they pop out of nowhere like last time.

"Wandering around somewhere." Oswald shrugged. To be honest, the farther away they are, the less his migraines acted up. "But, in any event, let's get moving!"

"Huh? Where?"

"To see Jamface and get the projectors working, remember?" Oswald elbowed her. "We've got a job to do here."

"I remember! It's just…" She lowered her shamefully flushed face. She shyly folded her hands behind her back. "Do you really still want me along without my magic?"

"Of course we do!" Oswald wrapped Gus and Mickey around the neck. "We don't care if you have magic or not. You're part of the team." Gus and Mickey nodded in agreement. Oswald then grinned impishly. "And, as you know, OsTown is right next door. Prescott's gonna flip when he sees his Pretty Kitty."

 _PRETTY KITTY?!_ Cecelia's face exploded cherry red. Mickey and Gus snickered under their breath. "Uh yeah...he's gonna flip alright." She laughed nervously. Inside, she was dying several times over. _Flip out and shout!_ She sighed resignedly. _I hope he isn't mad at me. I didn't mean to be away for so long._ "Well, after we talk to Jamface, why don't we go see him? I need to get my spellbook back, anyway." And confirm for herself if its with him or not. That'll be the proof she needs. _Also..._ She put a hand to her chin, humming in deep thought. _Maybe...just maybe...THAT might work in this situation._

"You're thinking if your book isn't with him that it's proof The Doc took your magic, aren't you?" Ice encased her spine. She nervously turned to Oswald. Brow furrowed, he was stamping his foot. _He reads minds!_ Cecelia gasped. "Mickey told us about what happened to you. Your magic's really gone?"

"Yeah. _Someone_ used a ritual that's in my spellbook and pried it right out of me." She touched a hand to her chest. She's grown accustomed to that emptiness. She was still bothered by it. She closed her eyes for a moment. Taking in slow, protracted breaths, her senses heightened and spanned to the demolished space around her. Gus, Mickey, and Oswald looked on, waiting for a dynamic display, or a feat of mysticism. But nothing happened. She sadly opened her eyes. "It's not there." She rasped.

Wasteland possesses a magic all its own. A carefree spirit that intoxicated the people. Whenever the wind would blow, gentle brushes would groove over her skin, taking her spirit to the clouds and letting her soar. The chipper voices of laughing children echoed far and wide, warming her heart. A bliss that cannot be put into words just enveloping her, even when disaster struck. The natural forces imbedded in the world - The Guardians - immersed Cecelia with their power. No matter where she was, she could feel their magic flowing through her veins. Wasteland itself granted her strength when she had none to give.

Cecelia cupped her hands to her chest. The worst feeling was that gaping hole in her soul. She was incomplete. "Someone used my own magic against me. And how convenient _SOMEONE_ came out of the woodwork just as it happened!"

"Cecelia, I know you don't trust him! But blaming him for your magic being stolen?" Oswald wanted her to realize how ridiculous this sounded.

"I am perfectly aware no one in Wasteland possesses magic." The exception being Madam Leona. She's been told countless times. "But if Mickey told you about my magic, he also told you that I told him you don't need magic to perform this ritual. Just a lot of time and patience." She narrowed her eyes. "Two weeks is plenty of time, and The Mad Doctor performs experiments and makes gadgets that require the utmost patience."

"Okay! I can admit that!" Oswald threw his hands up. That is possible. And Oswald doesn't blame her for thinking so. Anyone would agree with her. But it can be disputed. "Then the same can be said for The Petes. They have nothing but time, and they aren't fond of you." That's said for a lot of people.

"They aren't smart enough to tie their own shoes! Forget reading Latin and drawing symbols!"

"The Lonesome Ghosts and Madam Leona!"

"Leona doesn't touch foreign magic." Gus chimed in. "And she's threatened to evict the brothers if they so much as fiddle with a witch's wand.

"Then the Gremlins! Including Prescott!" He shot. Cecelia's chest was impaled with a spike. Gus and Mickey took a step back. Dangerous ground was being treaded upon. Gus will not deny being a bit hurt he and his friends were being dragged into this. "They have patience, they have time, and handful of them - including Prescott - can read Latin!"

"What reason would Prescott or The Gremlins have to do this to me?!" Prescott especially.

"Prescott is the one with your book! And let's face it, when you guys argue it sounds like a civil war in the Gag Factory!" Gus and Mickey can agree with that. Their arguments are never pretty.

Cecelia's growing tired of his denial. "You really just don't want to accept that your BUDDY is as guilty as he looks!"

Oswald moved his sneer within inches of her face. "My BUDDY saved my life!"

Cecelia pressed her forehead to his, "Would you say the same if The Blot saved you?"

"You know what, I would! People deserve a second chance! Regardless of past SINS!"

"Meaning what?! Come on! Say it! I dare you!"

"OKAY! THAT'S ENOUGH!" Gus pried them apart. "You both are being absolutely ridiculous!" He shooed them to opposite corners. "Wasteland is falling apart, Beetleworx are attacking our friends, and you two are fighting amongst each other and pointing fingers?!" Cecelia and Oswald cringed with shame, sinking into themselves. Gus put his hands to his hips like a disappointed parent. "Before either of you says something you'll further regret…" He trailed off, darting fingers criss-cross for them to make up.

Cecelia's tail and ears slumped regretfully. "Oswald…" She moaned.

"I know. I'm frustrated too." The pair shared apologetic smiles. He put a hand to her shoulder, "What do you say we get back on track and visit Jamface?"

"Sounds like a plan." Mickey agreed. He stopped himself before he got too carried away. "But I thought the projectors weren't working."

"They aren't." Gus regretted to inform him. "All the projectors went down the with quake. Jamface has been working on getting them back into tip-top shape."

Jamface working on the projectors just doesn't sit right with Cecelia. Gus said he stopped working on the five months ago, giving them up for the Gag Factory and building amplifiers. She buys the amplifier story. Prescott's drug is devices that offer a substantial boost to an object. But Gags? He may work and live there, and has a talent for creating them, but Prescott hates those gags. They made his head split.

"If the projectors aren't working, how are we going to Mean Street North?" Cecelia questioned. Mean Street North and South. She can still hardly believe it. Mean Street split down the middle. That's scary. She wonders how everywhere else looks. Mickeyjunk Mountain must be an even bigger mess.

"I'm glad you asked!" Gus flew to the manhole for the Underground, prying the lid to the side. "Shall we, my friends?"

"The Underground?!" Cecelia cried. Mickey was shivering. They can already smell the putrid fumes.

"Do not confuse the Underground with the sewers!" Gus exuberantly warned. He snatched them both by the wrist. He shot into the air. "ONWARD WE GO!" Mickey and Cecelia screamed as they were dragged inside the hole. Oswald shrugged and dove in after them.

 **To be continued.**

 **Yeah. Not a lot of action.**


	5. The Dahl Engineering Corridors

**The**

 **Dahl Engineering Corridors**

 **Moving on. Sorry for being gone so long. Work is killing me.**

 _ **Quick Summary -**_

 _ **Cecelia was enjoying being home, then is drawn to Wasteland by an odd light. Her magic was ripped out of her, and Mickey found her lying on the ground in Yensid's workshop. Mickey received a message from Gus that Wasteland was in danger and that he needed to find Cecelia and the brush. Making their way through Yensid's tricky workshop, Mickey and Cecelia eventually returned to Wasteland to find Ortensia and Gus waiting for them in Dark Beauty castle.**_

 _ **The reunion was happy, but word of quakes tearing Wasteland apart ruined the joyous mood. Worse was the Mad Doctor's return. Oswald appeared, said he was speaking with the doc, and warned everyone of the part blot, part animatronic creatures attacking Wasteland. Naturally, Ortensia and Cecelia refused to trust The Mad Doctor, knowing he was up to no good. Mickey and Gus, on the other hand, reserved judgement until after they talked with him. The projectors were down, so they had to take the train.**_

 _ **Another quake hit, breaking the castle apart, separating the heroes. Everyone then learned Cecelia's magic was stolen, but that there might be a way for her to still use it.**_

 _ **Escaping the castle, the group made it to Mean Street Station, found the entire area broken in half, and saw the doc helping fix everything. The doc understood Mickey and Cecelia didn't trust him, but wanted to prove himself. Until that day comes, the doc went to drop his machines off and see what else he can mend.**_

 _ **Gus decided that he and the others should head over to see Jamface on Mean Street North to get the projectors up and running. Cecelia added it would be a god chance to swing by OsTown and get her spellbook back from Prescott. A way to confirm the doc is the one who stole her magic, and test out a little trick. Ortensia chose to stand behind, and wished her friends luck. Mickey questioned if the doc was truly good. Oswald could only hope. Cecelia, however, refused to trust him. She can't. Not after everything he's done.**_

 _ **Now, their journey continues to Mean Street North where Jamface awaits. News of Mickey and Cecelia's return spread like wildfire. Everyone was overjoyed to hear that they'd returned.**_

 **xxx**

"WHAT?!" Crates stacked atop one another crashed to the ground. Animatronic versions of Donald and Goofy cringed under the loud noise.

Donald and Goofy were an animatronic doubles of Mickey's friends in the Cartoon World Oswald and The Mad Doctor brought to life. A version of Daisy is wandering around somewhere too. Plans were made for Minnie...but Oswald felt that would be going too far.

Wound up, clattering teeth, and Whoopi Goldberg cushions spilled across the floor. Rigid boots harshly kicked them to the side where they broke in a corner to be forgotten. Prescott's fingers balled into fists. He was fuming steam from his nostrils, ears, and nose. He saw red while glaring at the copies. "Mickey AND Cecelia are here?! And they're heading for Mean Street North?!"

"Yeah! Isn't that great?!" Goofy cheered. Prescott spat at the ground, turning on his heels and stomping on the styrofoam for one of his projects. "Umm...it's...not great?" Goofy cautiously retracted his comment.

"No! NO! It's absolutely, outrageously FAN-TAS-TIC!" Prescott threw another gag at the wall. Donald quacked and ducked behind Goofy. He quaked like a maraca. "Why shouldn't I be overjoyed - HECK, ECSTATIC - that both of Wasteland's heroes have decided to bail us out again?" He threw his hands up, storming for the next crate of worthless gags he was dying to break. Fake teeth, banana peels, and electric gum were pelted at the wall. Donald and Goofy flinched at the sharp cracks.

"He doesn't sound very ecstatic." Donald mumbled quietly behind a hand.

"No kidding." Goofy whispered back. Prescott was overheating like a kettle left on a fire. The steam whistling out of his ears was terrifying. "We'll just, uhh...go back to fixing the thinner pumps…" Goofy slowly backed away, hands raised. Donald was close behind him, matching his steps.

Prescott rummaged inside the crate, submerging half his body with his tiny legs fluttering. He roared animally, wrenching himself up. He pulled a massive mallet from the crate. Incidentally, a bust in the shape of one of the Petes was to his left. "WASTELAND, CURSE YOU!" He smashed it into hundreds of little pieces. He flew into a frenzy, hammering the pieces into dust, and he dust into...well...a dust cloud started to form afterward.

Goofy and Donald screamed and bee lined out of there before they were next. You know, when they imagined Prescott's reaction, they pictured him becoming red cheeked, shy, and giggling like a moron. Abject rage was not what they had in mind. THIS was FFAARR from what they expected.

Prescott eventually ran out of steam. The mallet was deadweight on the dust riddled floor. His poor arms were numb noodles. He huffed, and he puffed, and he crumbled to his knees, burying half his face between his arms. "Why, Cecelia?!" His trembling body shook his voice. Behind his arms, his eyes were squeezed shut. Tears lined his eyes, threatening to spill. "Why, of all the times, did you choose to return now?!"

 **xxx**

It was a winding road in near darkness for a while there. Eventually, Gus and Oswald lead Mickey and Cecelia to the main junction of the underground. The crank bridge was fully extended and seemed to be holding firm in spite of the quakes. Gremlin Engineering - rarely does it ever fail. Rain, sleet, sun, or snow - Gremlin products are good to go. Mickey and Cecelia dropped their jaws and marveled at the massive mechanisms churning on the ceiling. Locking their gazes to one of the alternatively spinning gears, they leaned to the edge of the bridge and found that the cogs circumvented the entire entry tunnel. They can only imagine what it was powering. Loud and rigorous though it was, Mickey and Cecelia never cease to be impressed by the ingenuity of the Wasteland people.

"WATCH OUT! DROPWING!" Gus howled.

Mickey and Cecelia were jolted out of their marveling, finding they'd reached the end of the tunnel. Distinctive gurgling stiffened their spines. Laughing nervously, the pair scrolled their eyes up. A pair of heinously green, googly eyes leered an inches from them. Black droplets melted from the unstably coagulated body of a Blotling. It roared at Mickey and Cecelia, blowing them off their feet, bearing its missing teeth at them. The Blotling, known as a Dropwing, flexed the elastic arm wiggling under him. The arm drew back to deliver a blow. Cecelia flinched defensively, her hand incidentally setting to Mickey's brush. The bristles jostled for an instant. A jolt caught Cecelia off guard. Resonating glows from the brush coated to her fingers, bringing a twinkle to her vibrant crimson eyes. The Dropwing arm cracked out like a whip. Mickey and Cecelia threw their arms up. A shield deflected the hand, sending the Dropwing flipping wildly.

Gus and Oswald were certainly surprised, but were grateful their friends were alright. The brush is a wonder of wonders. It is only natural it would protect its wielder. Mickey and Cecelia on the other hand were trapped a disbelief because...that wasn't the brush. "Cecelia?" Mickey's buzzing nerves shook him.

Cecelia shook her head. "I...I don't know what..." _What was that just now?_ It came and went like the waves crashing on a beach, but for the briefest of instances...an energy coursed through her veins. The power of the cosmos - or a singularity close to it - channeled through her. _That was...my magic?_ The gargling Dropwing interrupted the marveling, throwing its weight around in a tantrum. Steam whistled like a train engine from his ears, nose, and mouth. "WHAT IS THIS THING?!"

"That's a Dropwing!" Gus repeated. He and Oswald rushed to Mickey and Cecelia's side. It's insect like wings buzzed animatedly, drawing it back for a charge. "Not only does it spit thinner, but it'll pick you up if you get too close!"

"Spits thinner?" Mickey touched his chin pensively. The Dropwing drew in a long breath. Gurgling came from its stomach, building up gas at its lower body. Mickey and Cecelia sprang to their feet, ready to dodge the second the bubble left its mouth. The gas moved up, inflated its head, and the Dropwing opened its mouth, releasing a lackadaisically moving bubble.

"Say what?" Cecelia nearly dropped from stupidity. She and Mickey were worked up...over a bubble? What's next? A Blotling that makes adorable balloon animals. "You said he _spat_ thinner! Not...egh, THAT!" The Dropwing blew another idly floating bubble. She doesn't even know how to describe that pitiful display.

"I never said it was high velocity." Gus shrugged.

"I'll give you high velocity." Cecelia stomped over to some debris and found a long pipe. She swung it around and padded it to her palm, testing the durability. Gus cowered behind Mickey and Oswald, fearing that pipe was for him. She lined up with the Dropwing, tapping the pipe challengingly. The Dropwing snarled at her challenge and ever so slowly drifted to her. Cecelia rolled her eyes. "We're kind of in a rush…" She trailed off, drawing the pipe back, "SO MOVE IT!" She twisted her body, swinging the pipe with all her might. The pipe smashed in the side of the Dropwing's liquid body, sending him high flying and into the pit of scalding hot thinner. THE CROWD WENT WILD! Mickey, Oswald, and Gus doing the wave with blank, stunned expressions.

"Nice swing." Oswald ogled.

"I took up tennis while I was away."

The thinner in the staggering pit below was curdling in its own waste, constantly heating and eating at the minerals in the cavern. Endless spouts added to the mixture. The only source preventing an overflow was the grate leading to the outside. Pressure built and tear jerking fumes erupted in intense geysers. The fumes weren't hazardous, but there's no way that smell will come off for at least a day or two. Sadly, past those odorous geysers is where Mean Street North and Jamface are located.

"Up we go!" Oswald lifted Mickey, while Gus took Cecelia. For the fun of it, Oswald and Gus used the updrafts for added lift. At a moderately high speed, it was like riding a short roller coaster. It was fun.

"Huh? What's that thing?" Cecelia pointed to the wobbling machine below pacing side to side.

"That's a Blotworx!" Gus gasped. "Those are the metal monsters Oswald was telling you about!" He hissed. Gus's attention was strained by a strong glow from the corner of his eye. "And look at what he is guarding!" The trio turned to see a device feeding power to a spasming force field. Within the force field was a containment unit. Someone was inside it. "IT'S A TRAPPED GREMLIN!"

"It's Purps!" Oswald cried.

" _OYE! YOU! YEAH YOU, YA WALKIN' TOASTER!_ " Purps hammered his little fists at his prison. " _LET ME OUT OF 'ERE SO I CAN TEAR YOU OPEN AND MAKE YOU PLAY MUSIC!_ "The Blotworx had grown tired of his constant ranting and insults. Pacing from one side to the next was the only thing keeping him from going mad.

Oswald and Gus hovered higher to stay out of the Blotworx' line of sight. Mickey and Cecelia scanned the surrounding area, checking for hiding enemies. All was clear. "That force field can be disrupted by a burst of electricity." Gus informed Oswald. "It will just be up to one of us to break to container."

"Cecelia! Go with Oswald!" Mickey ordered. "Gus and I can handle the Blotworx."

"Right!" Oswald and Cecelia noded firmly. Gus and Oswlad exchanged heroes and flew off in different directions.

Gus plunged into a dive, lining up with the large red button on the Blotworx, and then pulled up. He let Mickey go. He flipped and stomped both feet to the button. The Blotworx body instantly lost functionality, the limbs dropping like dead weight. The top popped open. Spatter was dizzy on his busted spring of a seat. Mickey doused the Spatter in thinner, turning him into a giant puddle, and causing the mechanical body to spontaneously combust.

Oswald and Cecelia landed in front of Purps' prison. He would have done loops to show how happy he was to see them, but that container wasn't built for space. Oswald focused a beam directly into the force feild's generating device. Taking the pipe she kept, Cecelia swung with all her might, shattering container. Purps took his first breath of fresh air in a good long while.

"Thank ya all for freein' me!" Purps' feet fluttered gleefully.

"No problem, Purps." Cecelia beamed. "How'd you get in there in the first place?"

"I was tryin' tuh figure out how these cages kept us from teleportin', when the quake hit. And I..." He trailed off, turning beet red. He rubbed the back of his head bashfully, "Uh...well I kinda fell inside and got trapped." He laughed nervously. Oswlad and the others exchanged deadpanned disbelief. And here they thought it was another abduction like last time. "So, anyway, welcome to the Underground of Mean Street!" He recovered with a grand opener. "When Mean Street split in half, we got our first bit o' fresh air in years! Silver linin' and all that, I suppose." Cecelia and Mickey failed to see that lining in a gorge. "Now, if you need to get across that big gap, I can get the balloon up and runnin' again." He directed their attention to the motorized hot air balloon above them. Oswald, Mickey, and Cecelia wondered how he planned on getting that large contraption topside. Gremlin's are nothing if not creative. "First time is on the house since you freed me. But next time will cost you. Fuel's pretty scarce since the quake."

"Thank, Purps! See ya around!" Oswald bid farewell. He and the others raced off for the Underground exit. Purps waved goodbye, then flew up to fire up his balloon.

Just like on the other side, the Mean Street North tunnel was constructed of circulating mechanisms. The curiosity of what they were powering was strong in Cecelia and Mickey. They'd have to find out later. Jamface was just on the other side of that door. Gus revved his feet on overdrive, hauling the heavy metal door wide open. He motioned the others inside, closing the door behind them. Red lights mounted to the narrow walls illuminated a flight of stairs. Mickey and Cecelia wouldn't' believe any of this could be housed under Wasteland unless they saw it for themselves. Makes them wonder what else lurks below the forgotten world. Gus lead the way, checking for weakness or gaps in the stairs, bringing his friends to the next door. The quakes have been disastrous to the surface, but the sublevels are seemingly spared. He will have to conduct a thorough investigation throughout their journey.

 **xxx**

Outside of Mean Street North's Underground, Gremlin Jamface was situating caution barriers on a speck of ledge clinging strongly to a mantel of desiccated crust. A poor excuse of a winding path led up to Mean Street North's upper level. The ledge Jamface was on was the sole entry to the Underground levels. Since Purps' balloon's aren't operational at the moment - and that he charges up the yin yang for rides - the Underground is Mean Street's only means of travel between the two halves. On a brighter note, the ledge was cleared of danger and deemed stable for public use. Caution was urged when using the road. The barriers marked where the ground - or lack thereof - was at its weakest.

Jamface was surprised when the Underground door opened. Oswald, Mickey, Cecelia, and Gus filed outside, beaming elatedly at the sight of an old friend. At the same time, Cecelia and Mickey were trying not to gasp at the travesty that is Mean Street North. Maybe one day soon they won't be astonished by what's become of their secondary home.

"Mickey! Cecelia! It is good to see you again!" He firmly shook Mickey's hand, while spinning Cecelia in a hug. "WAIT!" He held Cecelia away from him. Her childlike legs didn't reach the ground. "You BOTH would not be here if Wasteland is not in peril!" He set the kitten down. Mickey and Cecelia weren't sure how to feel about that. Their presence being a sign of danger, or that they both can't be enjoying the sights without danger being assumed. Aren't they supposed to be heroes?

"Actually, we're here to fix the projectors!" Gus elucidated, not wanting Jamface to cause a panic. Even though he was spot on. "Do you know what happened to them?"

Jamface grew uneasily silent, scanning the surrounding area suspiciously. He sucked on his dry lips. A secret that he is privy to hot on his tongue, but did not wish for outsiders to hear. "Shh…" He urged the others. Gus and the others began to look around themselves, half expecting to find a spying telescope looming close by. "Come closer…" Jamface drew them in. They strained their ears. "One would think the quakes destroyed them. Yes?" He earned uniform nods. "BUT," The foursome flinched at him throwing his hands up, halting the preconception, "The Main Projector Substation in Rainbow Cavern went down BEFORE the quake." Cecelia, Mickey, and Oswald's ears perked and their eyes widened.

"Wait-"

Jamface stopped Gus with fingers to his lips. "It is a strange thing is it not?" Gus furrowed his brow at being silenced by the younger gremlin. "I do not know why." He flapped his hands in defeat. There isn't much he can do from here. He isn't an expert on the projectors.

"What's Rainbow Caverns?" Cecelia asked for her and Mickey.

"It's one of the first attractions built in Wasteland." Gus replied.

"How do we get to them if the projectors are broken?" Mickey asked next.

"You will need to take the Dahl Engineering Corridors." Jamface answered.

"We call them the D.E.C." Gus tried to loop an arm to Jamface, but the gremlin was too fast on the retreat. He pat the emptiness the touched his arm. "If we take them over to OsTown and ask Prescott, he'll know how bad things are!" He cheered. Gus possessed an innate talent for seeing the light at the end of a very long tunnel. If that light turns out to be a gaggle of fireflies, he doesn't let it discourage him. "And he'll know how to get to the caverns."

Jamface scoffed at the thought. He turned his back and folded his arms in insult. But, what can he do? Prescott is the leading genius on the projectors. "Well...if you are determined to talk to that...PRESCOTT," Cecelia wasn't able to help the sly smirk stretching her lips, "You can access the Mean Street D.E.C through the construction site on the right side of the street." A street? Was more like a warzone floating in purgatory.

"I take it Prescott is the same as he ever was." Cecelia giggled impishly, folding her hands behind her back. Still the same grouchy, bipolar genius with a tendency to be friendly.

"If anything, he has gotten worse!" Jamface uttered woefully. "He was much more tolerable when you two were dating."

"WERE?!" Gus, Mickey, and Oswald chimed.

Cecelia broke into a heavy sweat, a lump lodging in her throat. "You mean…" Oswald trailed off, moving a finger toward the shaking kitten, "You two aren't-"

"SO...JAMFACE…" Cecelia threw herself in the middle, frightening the gremlin, "We can get to OsTown via the D.E.C here, right?!" She rasped through her nervous fit. That blatant avoidance etched into the glaring trio's minds.

"Indeed there is." Jamface backed away. Cecelia was acting kind of strangely. He didn't want to catch what she had. "However, the way is blocked because of the quake." Of course it is. Nothing is ever simple. "However, there is another way in through the windmill, but it is in desperate need of repair." And yet another obstacle in their way. She knows she can't rely on it to fix everything, but Cecelia was really missing her magic right about now. She needs her spellbook. "I will be waiting by the Walt Statue if you wish to help. Adieu." Jamface's body condensed then dispersed in translucent bubbles. He reappeared near the statue of Walt Disney and Oswald.

Oswald rubbed his chin in bother, humming in deep thought. "So, Cecelia. What did happen with you and-" He eyed the blank spot where Cecelia stood. Mickey and Gus pointed thumbs up the way. Cecelia was in a mad sprint, already halfway up the sharply looping path. She vanished on the upper level, leaving them all in the dust. Oswald's ear drooped with his souring mood. "You get the feeling she's hiding something?"

"Whatever gave you that impression?" Gus rumbled sarcastically. The trio made their way up the path, pondering just what it is that Cecelia doesn't want them to know.

 **xxx**

Mean Street North was night and day to the South end. It escaped with meager damage in comparison. At the very least, there isn't a huge trench in the middle of the road. The shops seemed well put together. The insides might be a different story. Wooden supported were angled against failing walls to help hold them as fresh moldings were setting in place. There isn't much to speak of damage wise. Mean Street South was on the verge of being repaired. Mean Street North will likely come next at a later time. By the looks of it, materials and tools to fix the damages are scarce or lost due to the quake. Hopefully the aftershocks won't chisel at the edges. The shops will disappear into the foggy abyss below if that happens.

Cecelia found Jamface by the statute where he said he'd be. The broken down entries to the different parts of Wasteland hadn't gone ignored by her, but she was too furious with Jamface's big mouth to remark on them. Jamface plastered himself to the ground, trembling in terror of the hot red in her eyes. And that wasn't just her eye color.

"Can you NOT talk about my personal business in front of people?!" She warned him, small fists balled and losing circulation.

"Forgive me! I did not mean to offend!" Jamface's sweat soaked to the ground. "But I thought they knew you and Prescott broke apart." Jamface certainly thought so.

Cecelia puffed her cheeks angrily. A note of sadness hued her vibrant features. She moved from Jamface, letting him pry himself from the dirt. She crossed her arms, boring her ashamed glare into the ground. The barrier wasn't forceful, though Jamface felt obligated to not press further.

"We didn't... _break up_." That's not how she saw it, anyway. Breaking up means...well...you don't feel anything for one another. That doesn't apply to her. That aching in her chest when she thinks about him. Those butterflies that breed in her stomach when she dotes on their first kiss. And the way her knees quake when she imagines seeing him again. She still loves him. "We just...took a break, is all." A five month long break. "We hit a snag and weren't sure how to move forward." She can see why Jamface would assume they weren't together. _ARE we still together?_ The back of her mind doubted. When she thought about it, Prescott never tried to raise her on the mirror, or through the TV set. Then again, neither did she.

"Well…" Jamface treaded lightly. This is dangerous and fragile territory. What he says next could excite the all powerful fury she has packed in her tiny body. If he knew it wasn't there he might find extra courage. Studying the slump drowning her, this was a delicate situation. Jamface suddenly felt insensitive. "I am sure whatever is going on you two will sort it out. What you went through last year, everything else will be a sweep under the rug in comparison."

"I hope so. Thanks, Jamface." She sighed dismally. If Jamface was there, he'd beg to differ. Nevertheless, she's grateful for his support. "By the way, I heard about Markus and the TV. Is he going to be okay?" She cupped her hands to her chest. Markus was such a great help the last time.

"In a matter of days!" Jamface beamed, doing gleeful flips. "Luckily the TV was only and headset. If it came with surround and a subwoofer - PHEW!" Jamface shuddered to think what would have become of Markus. Cecelia isn't too sure what a subwoofer is, but she'll take his word for it that it's not fun to have fall on you.

"AH-HA! FOUND YOU!" Jamface yelped, jumping into Cecelia's arms. He's heavier than he looks. Oswald, Mickey, and Gus finally caught up to her, and were out of breath for some reason. _Did they run?_ She arched a brow. There was no rush to catch up to her. "You're not...getting...AWAY!" Oswald warned her, fuming with red cheeks. He caught his breath for a moment. "Now…you're going to tell us what's going on!"

"As you wish, Mon ami!" Jamface agreed as if acknowledging his surrender. Cecelia froze to her spot, a lump forming in her throat. "As I said, there are two ways into the D.E.C. Through the construction site, and through the windmill." Cecelia wiped sweat from her brow with a exhale of relief. The boys pouted childishly, groaning at the brazen dodge. They aren't finished with this inquiry yet. "However, at the construction site entrance is blocked, and I would appreciate you lot not SMASHING your way in like bulls in a china shop." Cecelia, Mickey, and Oswald grinned mischievously. They placed their palms together, feigning halos that said, _when have we ever been so destructive._ Gus and Jamface will not answer. "As for the Windmill…" Jamface, to his shame, had to show them the travesty. Jaws hit ground and sickly cringes hummed at the sight.

The windmill was up in smoke. Literally. Smoke was coming from top to bottom. Speaking of the top. The top of mill hung open like a rotting wound, attracting all sorts of elements that will cause it to decay and break over time. Slabs of woods fashioned into sturdy barriers to hold the crumbling structure aloft, preventing it from falling over the edge. The propellers were dangling by waning bands and cords. The slightest breeze ushered a bone chilling screech, signaling that it would break off any second. The entrance was blocked off by a X of planks. Grit, spit, and loads of duct tape were being used to keep the structure upright.

"The windmill I can fix. I just need some scrap metal that is lying around." He showed them a piece as an example. "You find it scattered about, or ask the shopkeepers where you might find some. 50 scraps should do the trick."

"Then let's get to work." Oswald declared. "Mickey, you and and Cecelia ask the shopkeepers. Gus and I will scrounge up what's outside."

"We're on it!" Mickey and Cecelia saluted. First stop was the photography studio. She was gone. Time for some answers. Jamface quickly teleported when Oswald and Gus seemed ready to ask him something. Those quizzical stares gave them away.

Oswald bobbed a finger, sucking on his lips. "Something strange is going on here!" Gus nodded firmly in agreement. The secrets are killing them. "We're going to find out what. Later!" A lesser person would question everyone who might know something. But Oswald and Gus were grown adults. Models of integrity, decorum, and respect. They'll weasel it out of Cecelia before they reach OsTown. Maybe.

 **xxx**

A small bell dangling above the camera shop door tolled Mickey and Cecelia's entry. Adelle, the shop owner, was - as she would put it - pleased as punch that two of Wasteland's heroes graced her humble shop with their presence. Of course she embarrassed them. Mickey and Cecelia haven't let their heroic deeds sink in yet. Quite frankly, they weren't going to let it. That's how heads swell.

Back to the topic at hand, Adelle apologized for how he shop looked. The quake did do a number on her store. Looked to be in decent shape, considering. She wondered if the pair had come to her shop to purchase a camera. They were sorry to say that they were there for another sort of business. They told her Jamface was looking for scrap metal to fix the windmill, and were hoping she knew where they could procure some. And besides, they weren't sure they had enough e-tickets to purchase something from her store.

Adelle assured them they wouldn't have to buy a single thing from her store. She won't have the Blot War Heroes pay so much as a penny in her shop. In fact, she had the perfect bargain, and perfect camera model for them. On older model for sure, but it takes the perfect Polaroids for her collection. She happened to have six scraps of metal lying behind her counter. For a picture of Mickey and Cecelia together, she'll hand it over. One quick picture later, six scraps of metal was theirs. Next time she'll give them more if they model with their brush and spellbook. Now Cecelia really needed that spellbook back. Until then, their scrap metal search was off to a great start.

Oswald and Gus weren't having too bad a time finding scrap metal either. Tons of it was lying around near the construction site. The pair managed to sneak a peek at what Jamface meant by not _smashing their way in._ The alternate route to the D.E.C was barred by a huge, industrial blast door that didn't receive a single scratch from the disastrous quake. There wasn't a means outside to open it. Meaning there had to be an opening on the other side. Ironic that it was labeled as a blast door, because it would be easy enough to take a collection of fireworks - which were so precariously placed nearby - and blow the door wide open. However, that might cause all sorts of problems for Jamface and the others later. Gus was certain there's a way inside. The windmill just might be the key. Oswald was inspired by curiosity and found ten heaps of scrap metal lying around.

Gus found some by piles of abandoned plywood collecting moss off to the side. Old barriers and waste barrels were jam packed with bits of scrap metal. Collectively, he managed to scrounge up ten pieces of scrap. He soared to the rooftop, finding some more just lying around. Funny how scrap metal has become as equally necessary a currency as e-tickets. The idea their life values drastically declined made Gus feel gloomy. What they have to do in order to get by nowadays. Survive two Blot attacks and constant harrassments by The Mad Doctor, and this is what they're left with. How the mighty have fallen.

Mickey and Cecelia visited every shop in Mean Street North. Rebecca the Pin Trader, Flynn the Gremlin of the game arcade, The usher at the movie theater, the ice cream parlor - and so on. Between the two of them, on top of what they already had, they gathered up 25 pieces of scrap metal. Gus and Oswald traveled beneath shops, and scoured one end of the street to the next. They practically walked on the underside. By the time they were done, they had collected 25 pieces. The group met back at Jamface, handing over all of their scrap metal.

"AH-HA, MES AMI!" Jamface sprang gleefully. "This is just enough! I will get to work right away!" Jamface whisked the scrap metal from their hands, and was already well into working on the windmill. Gus pulled up a chair and some popcorn, eagerly watching Jamface go to town. Cecelia, Mickey, and Oswald marveled with aghast faces. Jamface banged, boomed, and pounded away with his wrench. The broken parts assembled at his command. Planks and supported possessed by an unseeable force flying about. The propeller situated back in place. The smoke was snuffed and the roof repaired. Seconds later, the windmill was fixed, sparkling good as new. "SE, FINNE!" Jamface flamboyantly gestured as if he were Donna White. The windmill was good as new.

"Amazing, Jamface!" Cecelia gleamed. Mickey whistled impressed. Oswald and Gus applauded him.

"Thank you, thank you." He bowed to his adoring crowd. "Now, when you see Prescott, please tell him that I said to be glad others are joining in to fix HIS projectors!"

"Will do!" Mickey chuckled. Cecelia rolled her eyes, smirking indifferently. The knots in her stomach, on the other hand, wanted to lurch her over the edge until nothing was left. If she protests now, Oswald and the others will try to question her again.

Prescott's the lead inventor of the projectors. Without him, the people of Wasteland would have to rely on overpriced air balloon rides, or take the excruciatingly long way around. Yes, there is a looonnng way around to the other areas, and it's more ancient than the D.E.C's around Wasteland. Actually, before the projectors, Wastelanders had no other choice BUT to use these alternate routes. Through bikes, skates, and other means of transportation, they had to find their way to their destination. The projectors and D.E.C were a godsend. Prescott likes to play unappreciated for his efforts. His pride holds the firm belief, and ego stroker, that no one would know each other exists without him. It's best to let him think that. Disproving it will be a headache.

 **To be continued.**

 **Okay, there won't be so much action in these next couple of chapters, but it's a start. Next will be a filler type chapter. After that, it will lead to Rainbow Caverns.**


	6. Touching Yet Awkward Reunion

**Touching**

 **Yet**

 **Awkward Reunion**

 **Moving on.**

 **If you recall from the previous story, I didn't go too into detail when traveling the projectors. They weren't my favorite. I'll do the same with the D.E.C, but at least outline the madhouse that it is.**

 **xxx**

Once inside the windmill - which was larger than the outside gave it credit - the group made their way down to the sub level tunnels. The cavern at the end was housing terminals and a piping mechanism powering the windmill. Oswald and Gus saw the blast door they encountered outside. Reactivating the terminal, the outlandishly heavy door feasibly swung open. The first breath of fresh air and light swarmed the narrow cavern.

"Well, my friends," Gus rubbed his palms together, "Let us venture forth and discover what broke the projectors, shall we?" He flew to a large metal hatch. The thick, curved grooves in the granite extending at the top gave the impression the hatch resembled Oswald. Not a bad likeness. "This is the D.E.C that will take us to OsTown. Hopefully Prescott is home." _Hopefully he isn't..._ Cecelia sheepishly hooked her elbow. Gus turned on the terminal, sending power to the hatches hydraulic hinges. The hatch popped open like a miniature catapult. "Let us go!" Gus dove in first. Then Oswald, Mickey, and reluctantly Cecelia.

 **xxx**

Exiting from a doorway shaped like a Gremlin's head was the least unnerving thing about the trip. The head was angry too. The D.E.C itself? Hard to put into words. Cecelia and Mickey felt like Alice when she entered Wonderland for the first time. The corridor was ENORMOUS! Too big for reality. If they had a boat or plane, they'd wager the cavern stretched on and on an on. But that wasn't even the surface of it. All of the old junk lying around that was put to use in a sort of...Frankenstein assembly line. A-Track tapes, colored pencils, and wooden boards were used as bridges. A couple of trains were made into rising and falling doors. Possibly a portcullis joke. There was a purple doll on a spinning table. Knives narrowly missing the limbs. That was disturbing. Molten magma was cruising a vast channel, exhausting scalding fumes that was absorbed into the copious metal objects lying around. And yet, there was a strong breeze coming through.

Pinball machines, Tesla coil devices, giant heads of the chipmunks, Baloo floating in the magma - The D.E.C was a messy construct that would drive others absolutely mad. The repetitive banging, wind up turtles running on treadmills that powered catapults throwing pies at a witch's face. Mickey and Cecelia walked in a straight line and were completely lost. Thank goodness for Gus and Oswald, otherwise Mickey and Cecelia would be out of the game before it even started.

A majority of the way, the D.E.C felt like it was flipping upside down and in every other possible direction. Sort of like those wayward stairs in that painting. Heading right brought you left, up went down, and vice versa. Skipping across floating planks made of oak wood inches from the magma wasn't fun. Neither was being shot around by a pinball machine. The children's working as surfaces were tricky. Some were leveled, others gave out the second someone stepped on them. Mickey wasn't watching and walked off a ledge. No cause for panic as he fell onto a trampoline and bounced right back to where he fell. A contraption hooked Cecelia by her shirt and sent her soaring onto a spinning record.

Oswald and Gus won't lie. They were having fun at their expense. The junk scattered across the ages of Toons and Cartoons were gathered into this general madhouse of a space and was used to create a crazy route of transport. And it was battering Mickey and Cecelia like cheap pinatas. The Great Heroes of Wasteland bested by old junk. If they had a camera they'd be able to make a new cartoon for the theatre. The moment the entrance showed itself, Mickey and Cecelia left Oswald and Gus in the dust trying to escape. The two shrugged their shoulders at their tourist friends. They might as well get used to the D.E.C. Because until the projector's are fixed, that's all they have.

 **xxx**

"PAH-HA!" Mickey and Cecelia shot out and flopped to OsTown ruptured streets. Gus and Oswald leaned on elbows at the D.E.C, scowling at the dramatic pair. You'd think after braving Tomorrowland sewers and forests haunted by Blotlings nothing would get under their skin. Their skin must be softer than they let on. Mickey and inflated like balloons, gasping for fresh air, taking in the blue skies, and lavishing in the wonderful aroma of...thinner fumes?

Mickey and Cecelia paused the second they rose up. Damage done by the quake was a given, they would only be surprised if somewhere in Wasteland wasn't trashed. But this. This took their breath away. OsTown was, by far, in the most pitiable state Mickey and Cecelia have seen. Where there used to be lush grass and a variety of flowers Clarabelle and Ortensia worked so hard to grow was now an overflow of thinner. To make matters more horrific, right in the middle of town was a large pond of thinner. A sinkhole broken open and overflowing with who knows how much thinner. What was surmised to be a statue was a huge, broken thinner spout soaking a version of Mickey's old home in thinner, making it entirely inaccessible. Everyone's homes were in shambles too. Ostown was home away from home for Cecelia and Mickey. This tore at their hearts.

"Gosh…" Mickey moaned, rubbing his arm. Cecelia was at a loss for words. Gus and Oswald understood their dismay, but they had work to do. Who knows? Maybe when they get the projector's running, rebuild some more, things will start to go back to normal. For now, they needed to talk to Prescott.

"AH!" Cecelia yelped, flinching away. Staggering jolts shot through her fingertips as they brushed the door. Hairs on her arms and neck stood on end. "What the…" She gaped at her hand, wondering if she retained tons of static. Static doesn't explain the familiar _lightness_ lifting her insides. She hesitantly touched the door again. Not a jolt this time, but something...else. The sense that, if she opened the door, she would see herself standing on the opposite side. _This is…_

"Cecelia?" Oswald called her from her daze.

"Oh! It's nothing!" She waved her hands assuringly. Her brow furrowed, her eyes glazing over the Gag Factory scrupulously. Rarely does she pounce on a theory, but what she felt was too overbearing to be anything else. _My magic...it's calling to me?_ But why from the Gag Factory? Could it be her spellbook?

 **xxx**

The Gag Factory was a marvelous change to the outside. The quake doesn't seem to have bothered it in the least. There was still a mess lying about. Broken gags, balled up schematics, unopened crates - the typical works. But that's the direct result of the caretaker.

Prescott hadn't taken notice of the visitors entering his shop. He was focused hard on reading her was turning to his Data Assistant. A remarkable little device similar to Oswald's remote. In shape anyway. With it, Prescott can hack systems or reprogram dangerous beetleworx without breaking a sweat. He's opened quite a few doors with it as well. GPS and tracking capability are tuned into it as well. He was still wearing his gravitation glove of his as well. That's an invention of his no one should trifle with. The majesty of gravity and inertia were his to command and manipulate at will. Nothing was beyond him. He's lifted Spladooshes as if they were feathers, smushed Slobbers flatter than pancakes, and sent Spatters and Sweepers flying all the way to Ventureland and back. Yes, he is a force to be reckoned with when pushed to that point. The recent calm - current damage excluded - has restricted his drive to leap into heroics. He was far too busy with the factory and the projectors. If he had a choice, he'd pick the projectors. He despises the factory. Everyone one knows it.

A set of readings Prescott couldn't quite synchronize were eluding him by a couple of hertz. If he can just match the frequency properly. Which would have been done sooner than later if the idiotic chatter teeth would stop bothering him.

"OH CHATTER OFF, YOU WORTHLESS LITTLE-" Prescott's tirade was silenced by the slam of the front door. He gaped at the four standing in his doorway, cringing and gulping at the kitten meekly waving with her fingers. He threw his D.A. into his large trunk, a toy chest of sorts, and sat on it so the _intruders_ wouldn't poke their noses where he didn't want them. "Well, well," He uttered in a low growl to the approaching company, "Look who decided to _grace us_ with their presence!" Daggers carved Cecelia up like a pumpkin. True terror turned her blood to ice. Her ears sank, and she sank with them, unable to look Prescott in the seething eye.

Many would deem it impossible. Prescott's glare became more virulent than normal, peeling the layers off their skin like they were onions. Gus pondered his behavior as odd. Prescott's been grumpy for as long as he can remember. But to not have a pleasant attitude when Cecelia is near? Now that Gus takes a moment, Cecelia was behaving oddly too. She was turned away from Prescott, shrinking into herself. Glancing between the pair, Prescott sneer centered on her and her attempts to avoid eye contact, it was obvious there's a storm in their little paradise. But why? What could have happened?

"Say, uh, Prescott," Mickey chimed in at the precise moment, "We gotta get to Rainbow Caverns fast! Is the D.E.C still working?" The inquiry cut the awkwardness in half.

"Not exactly. It's down that thinner sinkhole." Prescott's hostility turned onto clapping feet bouncing on by. When Mickey and the others acknowledged yet another roadblock, Prescott stomped on the idiotic toy and kicked it under a table. "Jamface gave Goofy some thinner pumps, but they'll take FAR too long. Naturally, I told Goofy how to upgrade them." Somehow, Gus and Cecelia didn't like the sound of that.

 _KABOOM!_ The Gag Factory door nearly flew off its hinges. Everyone raced outside to see what happened. Prescott, on the other hand, rolled his eyes at yet another interruption, and lazily teleported out.

 **xxx**

"YAAH-HOO-HOO-HOOEY!" Gus and the others slid to a halt, gaping in dismay as Goofy rocketed into the air. Jet black smoke trailed from his hind quarters. Large machines were thrown up with him, diverting into all directions. All eyes watched in horror as Goofy came crashing back to earth in front of Ortensia's house. Crashes to the side of her house, The Gag Factory, and a splash in the thinner canal made people jump out of their skin.

"GOOFY!" Mickey and Oswald cried, towering over him. Cecelia and Gus checked to see if he was breathing. Prescott simply teleported in at his own convenience. Judgmental leers painting Goofy as an abject failure.

Goofy's singular green eye flickered back on. Gus and Cecelia helped the delirious goof sit up straight. All in all checked out. That raggedly form of his was natural.

"Goofy! What happened?!" Oswald asked concerned.

"Well," He chased off the birds riding stars circling his head, "I was tryin' to fix these pumps, just like Prescott told me." The first mistake was a shared conclusion by the four. Asking Goofy to do something complex and dangerous is like asking Donald to train the Dalmatians. Bound for catastrophe. "Don't know what I did though, 'cause they all went kablooey!"

"And nearly took OsTown with it!" Cecelia hissed, cursing Prescott. He's a proclaimed genius. He should know better than to leave Goofy alone with this sort of work.

"I told him to overcharge ONE pump, not three!" Prescott hissed on the defensive. "YES! It makes the pumps _slightly_ unstable, but it also gets the job done FASTER!"

Cecelia's mouth gaped in utter astonishment. She whipped him around by the arm. "Faster? Unstable?! Goofy could have gotten hurt. Worse!" She added after recalling his crash landing. "Since when is speed your priority?" She jabbed a finger into Prescott's chest. He brushed her off like he does everything else. "Efficiency AND Expediency used to be your priorities!"

"Priorities change, Dearest Cecelia, as you of all people should agree!" He smugly retorted.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?!"

"You have moderate intelligence. Figure it out!" Prescott folded his arms and turned his back. Cecelia bared her teeth growling animally. Gus, Mickey, and Oswald slapped hands to their chest. That knocked the wind out of them. And Cecelia was about to knock the stuffing out of him.

"YOU LITTLE-"

"AN-Y-WAY…" Gus whisked himself in the middle with his arms out. He darted side to side as Cecelia clawed to climb over him and pummel Prescott, "Charging the pumps seems rather...dangerous. No offense, Prescott." Prescott huffed angrily.

"Seems more than slightly dangerous to me." Goofy disagreed with his usual harmless bluntness. "I think I'll just go ahead and use the pumps how Jamface told me." No one said anything, but there's approval of his plan. "And hey, you fellers can help me get those pumps back! I think I have a Fairy Sketch around here somewhere you can use!" Goofy stretched his pockets to find it.

"Fairy Sketch?" Mickey and Cecelia looked to Gus for answers.

It is time, once again, for another lesson in Helpful Items with Professor Gus. Donning his scholar's cap and tapping a stick to a randomly placed chalkboard, he hooked his students' attention. "Ah, the fairy sketch. Just think happy thoughts, that's my motto!" Chalk versions of Mickey and a Spatter appeared. "Fairy sketches can lift and move large objects, or enemies, as if they were weightless." So the drawings demonstrated. "Paint, or a bit of magic, can keep it going. Thinner will cancel the effect. Given how clever you two are, I'm sure you can put it to great use!"

Goofy handed the sketch to Mickey, who then passed it on to Cecelia. He had a feeling she'd be able to use it better than he can. The inscribed paper sent tingles through her fingers. Just like Mickey's brush and the door at the Gag Factory. She hummed pensively, her lips stretching in a smile. _Yep. It's going to work._

"Fine!" Prescott's cynical indifference polluted the air. He teleported to the Gag Factory doors, slouching to the archway. "But if you'd like to get things down QUICKLY," He strongly urged for the sake of his Inventor's Pride, "Come talk to me." Not that they had to or anything. Just a suggestion he strongly recommended.

Gus can't quite put his finger on it. Prescott's character is far more sour than when he last saw him. And boggling still is Cecelia's truculence towards him. She was rolling her eyes at him, facing in any direction that took him out of her sight. Those two argue. There's no forgetting that. But this...this is different. Awkwardly scary or scary awkward.

Cecelia split from the group to retrieve a thinner pump. She slipped the sketch from her pocket to give it a whirl. Gus plucked it from her fingers. "Hey! Gus!"

He pressed a finger to her nose, stifling her protest. "I don't know what's going on between you two, and quite frankly I'm sure I don't want to know." Prescott overheard Gus and retreated inside the factory. Cecelia swallowed nervously, turning several shades of pink. "But you need to resolve it, lest this weigh you down. Besides," He wrapped an arm to guide her to the place of no return, "Your spellbook is still with him, isn't it?"

Lightning and thunder conjured by her mind clashed over the factory. "Aw man…" Cecelia's sank miserably. "Can't you get it?" She moaned.

"Resolve! Now! Thank you!" Gus kicked her in the butt. Cecelia groaned, rubbing her sore butt. She was already at the door. No turning back now. Besides, if she did, Gus would just kick her again and likely shove her inside. She took a breath, mustered her courage, and went inside.

Oswald and Mickey tiptoed to him. They leaned in close. "Find out anything?" Oswald whispered, checking for eavesdroppers.

"A lover's spat that rivals when they first met." Gus whispered, shielding his voice from traveling.

"Oooh…" Mickey and Oswald shuddered.

"Exactly."

 **xxx**

Prescott was already returning to work when he heard the door close. He didn't have to turn around to know Cecelia was his guest. Her small feet were clopping in irregular strides as she debated running or continuing. He grumbled under his breath. The door closing had a profound impression on them. The isolation from the outside was rife in the space. No one around to intervene should they argue or fight, or to listen in when they finally muster the courage to speak to one another.

The muscles in Prescott's back stiffened sensing Cecelia encroaching within a few feet. She stopped with enough room to respect his bubble. Then again, standing in Ventureland wouldn't be enough space. Prescott maintains a pretty wide bubble.

"You going to stand there in silence all day or say something?!" Prescott pierced the unbearable silence. He was working a crowbar into a sealed crate, channeling his irritation into popping the lid off.

Cecelia's mouth ran dry. Her tail wrapped to her waist, ears drooping anxiously. She bounced her fingers together. She didn't have a clue as to what she was supposed to say. The disdain was rich in the room, there's no ignoring it. The wick was lit and the gunpowder was itching to explode. One wrong word and it'll dissolve the whole situation. So...she went with the generic greeting.

"How's life treating you?"

Prescott rolled his eyes. _That's the best you can come up with?_ "You mean you care?" The lid cracked off, hitting the ground with _CRA-SLAM!_ A crack and a slam mixed into one sound.

The hairs on Cecelia's tail and ears stood on end. "Of course I care!" Cecelia massaged her ears. A dower shadow robbed the light from her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself. "I haven't stopped caring." He moaned in a rasp.

"Really? The past five months would beg to differ!" Prescott aggressively tore bubble wrap from the box, throwing it onto Cecelia.

Irritated steam streamed past the wrap. She threw it off, marching closer. "What did you expect me to do, Prescott?! Be fine by the next morning?" Prescott felt her rage beating at his back. His own was protecting against the burns. "You were asking me to leave my home!"

"I wasn't asking you to do anything!" He pulled from the crate, finally matching her glare for glare. "It was a simple inquiry to see if you wished to transcend our relationship to the next level!"

"By asking me to move in with you!" She simplified. Polish it up and refurbish it however often you like. Trash is trash, and Prescott's decision to move in together was what it was.

"Obviously you didn't want to!" He scoffed.

"Of course I wanted to!"

"Then why did you say no?!"

"I didn't!"

"Yes you did!"

"No, Prescott! I said I wanted to tell my grandfather about our talk! I can't just go back home, pack up on a whim, and leave! It would have crushed him!"

"Then why did you leave?! Why didn't you come back?!" He stomped his feet, throwing his hands around in outrage. "I haven't heard from you in FIVE-MONTHS!"

"Because you blew everything out of proportion! LIKE YOU'RE DOING NOW!" Prescott inhaled to protest, then bit his tongue. He deflated shamefully, accepting her words as truth. Noticing he was attempting to calm down, Cecelia followed suit but kept a stern tone. "Yensid and I are all each other has. You know this! Leaving would be…" She was shuddering. Not seeing Yensid every morning...one day it'll come where he passes on. She won't see him ever again. But moving out seems harder. "Prescott, you of all people should know what it means to have only one person in the world who is willing to keep you in their life."

"I do…" Just as her grandfather accepted her and her faults, Cecelia so did unto Prescott and vice versa. That in itself created an ever lasting bond.

"And, whether you like it or not, I've only had you for a year. My grandfather has been with me my whole life." Hard to believe its only been a year. What they've been through, seemed like ten. "Parting...would have hurt."

"I know…" Prescott slumped to the floor, folding his knees to his chest. "I just…" He nibbled on his lower lip. Sadness glossed his eyes. He hid half of his red face behind his knees. "I was scared you...you stopped loving me."

Cecelia's eyes widened. Her heart tore a little. Then she felt...strangely happy. A tender smile spread to her lips. She cupped his cheeks, bringing him to meet her smile. The tint in her cheeks made her eyes appear to sparkle. Prescott's own cheeks heated red. "Five months, or five years, I still love you with all my heart." If he had one, Prescott's heart would have skipped so many beats. "We've been through too much. I'd never give you up."

Prescott released a self loathing sigh. "I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry." He rose to his feet. "Can you forgive this pessimistic fool?" He opened his arms, wiggling fingers to entice a hug. Cecelia wrapped her arms around his neck, forgiving him as soon as his arms wrapped to her waist. The strong embrace was making her melt like ice cream in the sun. Her cheeks flushed bright pink. Her heart pounding with delight. Prescott too was hazy with pure joy. Cecelia in his arms again after so long was a dream he's had for many nights. Nothing can compare to the real deal.

Prescott cupped a hand to her soft cheek, bring her face close to his. The two closed their eyes. Their lips met in a passionate kiss. Their world was engulfed in a rosy atmosphere. An abundance of clouds replaced the gag factory, carrying their minds to the fantasy where their heart were soaring. In that moment, the gremlin and cat fell in love with one another all over again.

 **To be continued.**

 **Not much, but it'll do.**


	7. Erasing Doubts

**Erasing Doubts**

 **Alright. Here we go!**

 **This will be short. You have been warned.**

 **xxx**

"OKAY! SEND HER DOWN!" Oswald shouted with hands cupped at his mouth. Goofy and Gus were ready with a stretched tarp. This will be pretty close.

"COMIN' YOUR WAY!" Mickey shouted back from Ortensia's roof, bracing himself to the thinner pump. Maybe he should have kept those Fairy Sketches. Or at least borrowed a couple. A note to self for next time.

The thinner pumps got some distance after that explosion. Overcharging one thinner pump was rumored to have an adverse affect if not managed properly. But overcharging three sent Goofy, the pumps, and Ostown rocketing to the moon. Thankfully they landed with minimal damage. But that was one heck of an earthquake. Oswald and Gus were easily able to recover one pump from on top of the Gag Factory, and the other from Beluga Billy's house. He and his cousin weren't too thrilled at the thinner eating away at the side of their house and garden. Took them forever to fix it all after the last two disasters. Nevertheless, the pumps were in the pumping station

"HEAVE...HO!" Mickey rammed his shoulder and sent the pump over. It was like catching a brick, but Gus and Goofy saved the pump. "Nice catch, guys!" Mickey climbed down the drain pipe. "That's the last of 'em! Let's get it into place."

Gus and Goofy lugged the heavy pump to the empty slot, jerking it to fit it into the grooves. Oswald exhaled with a sense of accomplishment. Emptying the thinner sinkhole will bring them another step closer to reaching Rainbow Caverns, and Rainbow Caverns will have the means of fixing the broken projectors. Hopefully reaching the caverns will be all that's needed to fix the projectors. There's a lot to fix up after the quakes. Oswald, Mickey, and those trapped in the vast regions can't afford to idle. If another massive quake does strike - Spirits of Wasteland forbid - then the world may very well split apart. Oswald would give up Ortensia's carrot stew before allowing that to happen.

The the thinner pumps were readied for use, Oswald was unnerved by how silent it was at the Gag Factory. He half expected some sort of crash, boom, explosion, or at least the walls caving in. It was more quiet than a funeral service. "Do you think everything's alright in there?" He nervously whispered to Mickey. Cecelia and Prescott have bionic ears. Pins dropping on the opposite side of the can be heard by them. "What if Cecelia and Prescott killed each other?"

"Come on, things can't possibly be that bad between them." Mickey tried to spin his optimism. True, Gus said they're having a tiff rivaling their first encounter - _shiver_ \- but they wouldn't kill each other. Or would they? "I'm sure they're fine. Cecelia is just grabbing her book and we'll be on our way." He silently hoped. He crossed his toes in prayer. Fingers are too obvious.

"Hey, guys...question." Oswald slumped, anxiously rubbing his arm. "Do you...are you mad that I chose to believe in the Doc?" He shakily met their eyes, fearing the response. "That I'm letting him run around freely?" Gus and Mickey were caught severely off guard by the question. They shared baffled stares, unsure how to answer. "I mean, I haven't forgotten what he's done. But I also haven't forgotten he was victimized by everything too ."

That's not _wrong._ The Mad Doctor lost control of The Blot the first time around, and was nearly killed by the bloticles. Then, the second time around, he was double crossed by The Blot and was almost killed when faced up against the magic he acquired. In small ways he has helped. But in huge ways, everything that's torn Wasteland apart was because of him. The exception being the thinner disaster.

"I keep trying to tell myself I'm doing the right thing." Oswald sat to the curb, elbows on his knees as he sighed. "That, as leader, it is my duty to use my judgement and ensure my people that the danger will pass." How can he grant them that insurance when he's allowed the source of that danger to return and work so closely with him? Never for a single second has he taken his decision to trust The Mad Doctor lightly. He knew what it would mean. "But...whenever I look at the other's faces, think about what Ortensia and Cecelia have said...I can't help but question everything I've decided."

Mickey and Gus released their held breath, gazing sadly to their friend. They've noticed it for a while, but haven't commented. Oswald was distant, spacing out and muttering to himself. Now they know why, and when they thought about it, they haven't been supportive of or against his choice. They haven't' spoken a word about it. Honestly, they don't know what to say. As they well know, Oswald and The Mad Doctor were once friends. Regardless of what he's become, Oswald would never turn his back on him. Never. Even if it meant everyone hated him for a time.

When they use that level of thought, Mickey and Gus can't help but admire him. Oswald forgave Mickey, and gave him a second chance, after he caused the thinner disaster and hasn't come to regret it since. In spite of difference in morals and relationships, if Oswald can find it in himself to forgive a stranger, a former friend shouldn't be out of the question. Nor should it be sneered upon.

"Will you guys say something, please!" He begged, wrenching at his ears. "I feel like I'd get better conversations from the air!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" Gus chuckled, sitting beside him and pat him on the back. "We aren't angry with you, my boy. And we don't hate you for following your heart." Oswald was startled by his honesty. He glanced to Mickey who gave him a thumbs up. "We trust you, Oswald. Not just as our leader, but as our friend as well. And if some don't like what you're doing, then you get out there and prove them why we made you our leader in the first place!"

"Right!" Oswald nodded with fiery confidence blazing in his eyes. "Thanks you guys!" He really has earned the title of Lucky Rabbit.

 **xxx**

Cecelia leisurely flipped through Prescott's guide books, transfixed by the amount of research blanketing the pages. And all in his writing. Complex calculations she developed a migraine from just looking at, scratched out theories and repetitively proven hypotheses marking up the sides, and the images drawn next to labels for assurance purposes. The devotion he puts into his work, and the attention to detail was astonishing. Cecelia's cheeks flushed bright pink at his work. She's made markings in her spellbook here and there. Mostly doodles from getting bored during her lessons, or smug remarks to help her remember from when she was a kid. Immature marks of a child compared to Prescott's work. He's impressive. No wonder why she loves him.

"Let me see...AH-HA!" Prescott rummaged in a trunk, his legs fluttering as he sank halfway. Cecelia's little ears perked up at his outburst. "Found it! It was under my science guides!" Cecelia's eyes widened. Prescott slipped out, waving the sought after book. He was taken aback by her paling expression. He was baffled, glancing between her and the book. She was eyeing it like it was a phantom. "What's wrong?"

"Have you...had it this whole time?" Her voice shook.

"Of course! I would never lend it out!" He snapped, offended she'd ask him such a thing. He slapped it into her hands. "You entrusted me with it…" He gently opened it, the pages fluttering to old photographs that jerked a tear to her eye, "And the precious memories it contains."

The photos were of her old friends from the human world, and of her family before they fell apart. Leather flaps held them in place. Her number one favorite, with a flamboyant embroidery as a lining, was of her, Prescott, Ortensia, Oswald, Mickey, and Gus during their visit to the ice cream parlor. It was the first REAL moment amongst true friends she's ever had, and when they began melting the ice from her heart. She and Prescott shoving ice cream into each other's face always made her laugh. To think, it only took a few strangers and the end of a world to break her out the shell she put herself in.

"Cecelia? Cecelia!" She jumped out of her skin. Prescott was an inch from her face, glowering at her. "You spaced out again. Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing…" Her mouth dried. She took a step back, hugging her book to her chest like a barrier.

Prescott growled under his brow. His brow knit tighter. Tail wrapping to her thigh, ears twitching rapidly, inability to make eye contact. "No. It's not _nothing_. What's wrong?" He matched her stride, backing her to the wall. He placed a hand on the side of her head, blocking her in. "Talk to me. What's the matter?" He pleaded with that stern expression. Cecelia's heart pounded at her chest. Her knees felt weak under his intense glare. Those piercing daggers shredding her insides to tatters, clawing for her secrets to come out. For a second of honesty. Cecelia sighed resignedly, and told him what happened. It made his blood turn to ice. "All of your magic is gone?"

"Not...technically." She blushed ashamed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I don't know how to properly explain it." Magic is so complex, even to her. And she's used it her whole life. She'll give it the old college try. "What allowed me to use my magic freely and at will has been dramatically capped. I can't light a candle." She's tried. Mild to the mildest of breezes don't even try to snuff it out. "But, if I'm right - given what I've been experiencing - I should be able to borrow magic from other items." She brushed her fingers over her book.

"Like your spellbook, Mickey's Brush, or perhaps even the Spirits of Wasteland."

"Exactly! When I touched the Fairy Sketches Goofy had, I could feel their magic." She knew she could count on him. "Whoever stole my magic didn't think of everything. And once I find them..." Her expression took a dark turn. She took a blank scrap of paper from the floor. Vibration came at her book hand. Energy was snaking through her veins, making the muscles feel like noodles and yet empowering them. Sparks buzzed at her fingertips holding the paper, like a wick striking at sandpaper. She grinned malevolently as the paper set ablaze. Prescott was amazed. It was intense for something that should be capped, "I'll remind them what happens when you trifle with forces you don't comprehend. The Blot should have been lesson enough!" She cast the embers away, watching them fade on the wind.

Prescott was overcome with fear, bracing his balance on a stray crate. It wasn't of Cecelia, per say. But of what he knows she's capable of. _Wait._ He paused. _I'm the one with the book._ A pain stuck in his heart. So… "And you think...I had something to with it?" He trembled, his stomach churning to knots.

"No! No! That's not what I think at all!" How stupid. Of course that's how it sounded. She cupped hand to his cheek, wanting him to meet her gaze. "Actually, I think the Mad Doctor had something to do with it." She snarled. "I mean, who else would benefit from my magic being gone?!"

"That's a fair point. But, Cecelia, surely you've heard-"

"That he's turned over a new leaf, and he's good - blah, blah, blah - I don't buy it!" She stamped her foot. "Someone as despicable as that can't change! Not after what he's done!" Prescott dropped his head somberly, looking away from her. _Someone so despicable._ "You don't believe it, do you?"

"Of course I don't. How can I?" He gasped affronted. "But I don't think I can believe that he did this to you." He touched her hands. "Not only because I've been the only one with your book, but also because he isn't skilled with magic."

"Neither was The Blot and that didn't stop him!" She wrapped her arms around, shivering as The Blot's talons entering her mind. She can still feel them. Those cold, cold fingers caressing her like a precious doll. His domineering presence possessing her, moving her about as his puppet, causing pain and suffering to those at the castle. When he used her own magic to try and tear Wasteland apart, she felt her magic be perverted, corroded into something disgusting. Then...he...he tired to have her kill her friends. She won't let someone do that again.

"Cecelia, I have to know…" Prescott put his hands to her shoulders, "If your magic is gone...why did you come?" She tilted her head confusedly, blinking at the odd question. "Aren't you scared? Not that I doubt you! You're the bravest girl I know." He took her hands, holding it to his chest. "But I fear that you'll be harmed. And that...that you'll be…" That coffin. The coffin she lied in as death tried to claim her. Prescott has continuous nightmares about it. About how he almost lost her. "I don't want to lose you again. Not like that."

"Thank you, Prescott." She turned to him, snuggling her tiny frame in his warm, strong arms. In those arms she felt safe, and knew all would be well in the end. "But I'll be fine. You know me. I always bounce back after I'm knocked down." Prescott had to smirk. She wasn't wrong. But he had to wonder, will she be able to bounce back this time around?

 **xxx**

"And...THERE!" The last pump was in place. A jolt of electricity from Oswald's remote activated all three pumps. As promised, the thinner was drained away from the sink hole, clearing the way to the D.E.C. However, the missing statues of Mickey and Oswald that serve as the fountain's figureheads were swept down the sinkhole. Pressure built up by the quake is what was causing the fountain of thinner to spray the duplicate of Mickey's house. Without the statues, the thinner can't be capped. Even if the statue was there, all of that thinner building with nowhere to go would be catastrophic. Perhaps, with time, the thinner will decrease and they'll be able to deal with it. Until then, no one was getting inside that house.

"Whoa! And here I was worried you guys couldn't handle it!" Cecelia giggled impishly, meandering side by side with Prescott. Oswald and the others puffed up their chests, wearing their pride like badges of honor.

The mood wasn't spoiled, but Prescott growling at their choice of routes left a sour taste in his mouth. They picked Jamface's method over his...again. How did he not see that coming? "Well, won't you all make Jamface's day when he learns he's succeeded me again?"

"Come on, don't be mad." Cecelia nudged him with her shoulder. "You used the words _slightly unstable._ What would that have meant for OsTown?"

He puffed his rosy cheeks, leering in another direction. "Well if you want to throw logic at me..." Cecelia stifled a laugh. He's cute when he blushes.

Gus, Mickey, and Oswald are glad they're talking, seem to be getting along. Though they are still wondering what went on between them. "Hey! You got it!" Oswald dashed to admire her book. It's been ages since he's seen it. Inwardly, he and the other two were apprehensive. Prescott was the one with the book...the whole time. "So, was the hunch you had correct?"

"So far. I need to test it out further first." She cast a prideful smile towards Prescott. "Every experiment needs a thorough trial period." Prescott blushed at his own methodology being recited. "Shall we go?" She skipped to the D.E.C hatch, placing her hands to the two sided winch. Gus, Mickey, and Oswald joined her. Oswald held on to the other side.

"Cecelia...all of you…" Prescott hovered close by, "Please be careful."

"Don't worry. We'll be back sooner than you think." Cecelia planted a kiss to his nose. "I'll come by and tell you how things went. And...maybe...we can get some ice cream and talk...again."

"I'd like that." He bowed his head. It was a date then. Cecelia nodded firmly. She and Oswald dug in their heels, turning the crank with all their might. The thinner hadn't eaten at it, but the thing was rusty. Chunks of rust acting like a glue broke away, and the hatch's automatic functions took over, submerging them all in the tunnel. Once certain they were out of earshot, Prescott planted his feet to the ground, hiding what was a self-revolted glare. _Despicable people never change._ Those were her words. "Oh, Cecelia. Why is it I can only hurt you?"

 **Not much here. But, I was gone for a while and wanted to give you something.**

 **Till next time.**


	8. Welcome To Rainbow Caverns

**Welcome**

 **To**

 **Rainbow Caverns**

 **Moving on.**

 **xxx**

The crank elevator had a little more oomph than Mickey, Oswald, or Cecelia were expecting. The crank released the locking mechanisms, jerking the platform into an abrupt drop. The trio lost balance, bracing themselves on the crank, or the floor, as they were taken down. They groaned uncomfortably, feeling the stars that were circling their heads. Gus was able to get a brief chuckle from their expense. Again. Stupid, hovering, teleporting Gremlin. The descent aside, it was imperative Oswald and the others shake off the fall and be ready for anything. Unless they make it to Rainbow Caverns and learn what's causing the projectors to malfunction, the people of Wasteland won't be able to feasibly pass from one area to another. Not everyone likes traveling the D.E.C. Magma flooring and creepy, forgotten junk are unnerving to most with a weak constitution.

As Mickey and Cecelia were coming to discover, ways to the D.E.C were military grade built bases of operation. Built to withstand the most devastating of catastrophes - earthquakes for example - and impervious, as it seems, to devouring elements such as thinner. A lot of equipment was relocated to beneath Wasteland to prevent the earthquake's aftershocks from damaging them further. The Gremlins have salvaged as much as they could after the initial quake, leaving them with barely enough to work with. The D.E.C mechanisms were running 24/7 without rest, relying on tri- hourly maintenance by Gremlins Lance, Vance, and Spencer. Exhausting work though it may be, the overtime work was much appreciated. Making ends meet is hard enough these days. The Gremlins are willing to take work wherever it may come from, or be located. This work was of the utmost importance, however. And Vance, Lance, and Spencer are the vanguard and last line to ensure the D.E.C's life is extended. If anything happens to those passageways, the people of Wasteland would be permanently stuck where they are. Unless a miracle fixed the projectors. Precisely what brings Mickey and the others down there. On the bright side, the thinner doesn't seem to have caused any sort of damage. Fortune was still theirs. Two D.E.C's were theirs to use at will. The bad news is, D.E.C undergrounds across Wasteland may not be as easy to drain like this one. Or reach further than OsTown, or the two halves of Meanstreet.

"LOOK THERE!" Gus gasped, trailing the platforms hydraulic lift to the base. The remnant of Mickey and Oswald's statue from the broken fountain were trapped in a pool of thinner, being swallowed further into Wasteland's underbelly. Gus tried to grab the smallest piece to consider it a minor victory. Alas, the thinner dragged all enveloped within it out of reach. "OH BOTHER! Well, there's no helping it!" Gus cursed. Until the thinner drains further, that's where they're going to have to stay. Who knows how long that will take. Mickey's house will have to endure the constant fountain of thinner for a while longer. On a plus note, they aren't going anywhere. Leaving the group with less they have to scour for.

Meanwhile, it was important to get inside the D.E.C and reach Rainbow Caverns fast. Not that Mickey and Cecelia were in any sort of rush. That place gives them vertigo. The main quake may have subsided, but the aftershocks are proving to cause significant damage on top previous incidents. The perfect example decided to prove its mettle as the fifth aftershock of the day shook the cavern. The four gulped nervously at the dusty rocks breaking off the ceiling and darted in different directions, diving under desks and inside archways. They braced themselves, hugging tightly in their spots, waiting for the worst to happen. The aftershock gradually subsided, ending in a bone chilling vibrating growl. Mickey, Oswald, Cecelia, and Gus cautiously emerged from hiding, releasing breaths of relief. Perhaps fixing the projectors should come after they discover what's causing the aftershocks. Then again that might take longer to learn of than fixing a problem they are already fully informed of.

"So where's the door to the D.E.C.?" Mickey asked, tapping his brush to his palm, ready to get started.

"Through that door." Gus flew to the heavily lockdown door. Cecelia and Mickey trudged to the door, running their hands over the surprisingly warm iron for a switch, button, or door knob. Gus's chuckle embarrassed them, alerting them that they were doing something wrong. He'll never admit it, but he takes joy out of watching others make unintentional fools of themselves. "Forgive me. I do not mean to laugh. I'm afraid we've forgotten to inform you of recent system updates that have been made to Wasteland since your last visit." Mickey and Cecelia pursed their lips, deadpanning skeptically. Gus directed their attention to a terminal linked to their entrance. "This is an access port. A lot of machines in Wasteland use them so that we may easily access their programming. We wouldn't be able to get our work done without it. Oswald's remote, thanks to a few tweaks I've made, can reprogram these machines."

Mickey and Cecelia glanced impatiently to the whistling Oswald. He wriggled his brow impishly, flipping his remote mockingly. A silent gesture that Mickey and Cecelia are behind on the times. No worries. They'll get back at him later. "I'm all over it." He twirled his remote, holding it up to the port. Cecelia's angrily erect ears surged with their own electricity, stretching forth to fry the cotton tail. Mickey impassively tugged her tail, unplugging the energy. Oswald pushed the remote's button. High pitched radio waves resonated at a particular frequency, transmitting inside the access port and bypassing the complex coding within. Second lter, the door whisked open. "Viola!" Oswald marched with his chest proudly puffed, Gus on his tail. Mickey and Cecelia pouted on their way in, vowing to get back at these two. The game was still theirs, so Oswald and Gus propped the D.E.C hatch open. The wafting musty air churned Mickey and Cecelia's insides. "After you." Oswald teased. Oh yes! Vengeance will be theirs!

"CECELIA! WAIT!" Prescott came soaring down the D.E.C elevator, fresh out of breath. Cecelia approached him, hands out to catch him if he passes out. He was panting like her just flew a marathon three times. He erected a finger, wanting her to wait, and then showed her a handful of familiar looking pins. "I thought...you could...use these."

"The communicator pins!" Cecelia cheered. "I can't believe you still have these!" She loved these neat devices. Her star, Mickey's mouse, Gus's wrench, and Oswald's cat. Meaning Ortensia must have the Oswald pin, leaving Prescott with a projector reel he made. Prescott invented these pins so he and the others would be kept in the loop, be warned ahead of time if The Blot or Mad Doctor were gaining or losing ground in their pursuit to decimate Wasteland. They were perfect. "What brought these into the light again?" She pinned hers to her sleeve.

"I was saving them for an emergency. Since your magic isn't working as it should, and with these aftershocks," He pointed to his pin, stressing glances between Oswald and Cecelia, "It would bring ease to your loved ones minds to know you aren't harmed." Cecelia and Oswald's groaned with drooping ears, blushing remorsefully that they didn't consider this. Prescott cupped her cheek, making her look him in the eye. "Last time...I wasn't able to find you...and nearly lost you. You WILL keep in touch, yes?" He implored her.

Cecelia smiled like a cherub, kissing his cheek. "I promise." That's all he needed to hear, returning the kiss to her forehead. Gus, Oswald, and Mickey resisted cooing at the adorability. "And you don't have to about losing me. That won't happen ever again." Cecelia wiggled her fingers in a wave, then jumped down the chute. Gus, Mickey, and Oswald followed, the hatch closing on its own.

Prescott clenched his projector pin in his shaking hand. "But it will, Cecelia." Tears welled to his squeezing eyes, spilling to his hot cheeks. He glared at the pin, "And I will be prepared for that inevitability."

 **xxx**

Unbeknownst to the guilt ridden Gremlin, a tiny Beetleworx fly was clinging to the inside of the cavern. Hundreds of glossy, beady insect eyes reflected on the slouching gremlin, sending a feedback video link to a monitor in the dark reaches of Wasteland. Begrudging rumbling reverberated in the throat as The Mad Doctor leaned to the desk on his elbows, interlacing fingers beneath his chin. His brow was furrowed, disconcerting radiated in his hard trained eyes. He followed Prescott with a predatory glare, watching him leave the cavern and return to that inane factory of his. Good. That weak spine of his might coerce his mouth to open wider than it already has.

"Ah, Prescott…" The Mad Doctor leaned back, folding his hands in lap. He sighed disappointed. "Another inquisitive, brilliant mind warped by the whimsical phenomena of aggressively produced chemicals." Love. The simple term is love. A word that's acid on his tongue. Nevertheless, he will not allow that acid to burn a hole in his carefully laid plans. "Do prove your discipline in as ironclad as your word, Prescott. Otherwise," He rewound a few frames, zooming in on the feline fatale weakening Prescott's resolve, "I will have to remove the _irrelevant_ factor from our equations."

 **xxx**

The D.E.C hatch to Rainbow Caverns flew open. Mickey and Cecelia threw themselves hyperventilating onto the coarse cave floor, gasping for sweet air free of those...creepy figureheads. They vow here and now that they will never be able to get used to that. The sooner they fix the projectors the better. Running on records, and bouncing on target shaped trampolines has to be hazardous to their health. Mickey also thinks he almost had a seizure because of the pinball machine, but that's a different story.

Oswald and Gus hoisted the two onto their feet, dusting them off as their heads screwed on straight. "My friends, welcome to the mines of Rainbow Caverns." Gus auspiciously announced.

Pink-lavender glows warmed their skin, shading to the rough cave walls in an aura. Mickey and Cecelia rooted in place in awe, trailing their sparkling gaze over the abundance of precious ores imbedded in the rock. Mounds of glowing lavender crystals sprouted from floor to ceiling, winding support columns decorated by the stones firmly set. Gemstones and diamonds basked the mystifying cave in radiant lights. Like something out of a dream, only much more beautiful. Past a thin sheet of spilling thinner, the cave stretched to another area, even more gems and crystals snaring Mickey and Cecelia in wonder and amazement.

"Whoa…" Cecelia ran a hand up a crystal. The smooth, granite like feel tingled her skin. The muscles in her arm tensed and loosened, thin threads of mist spiraling to her shoulder. Lightness in her body made her feel as if she would float off the ground, but a heaviness on her mind stayed her feet like an anchor. Immense energy was seeping into her pores. The stones in the walls were doubtfully the source behind the glimmering in her eyes. There's magic in these caves. "You mean all of this has been under Wasteland since the beginning?"

"Indeed, it has, Cecelia. I'm sorry you weren't able to see it on your last trip." Gus laughed at her shock.

"Don't be! This makes that wait worthwhile!" She cheered. The D.E.C has to have taken them miles beneath the surface, yet she feel her real breath of fresh air filling her to the core. A strength she can't put into words dug into her. She hasn't felt this good since that age spell was lifted off of her. "Hmm…" In the midst of her revering, there was a thought that was nagging at the back of her mind. "Gus, this might be because I'm not familiar with Wasteland, but this place doesn't look Toon Made."

"A brilliant observation, Cecelia. You are correct." He flipped his scholar's cap onto his head, prompting Cecelia and the boys to take a seat fro Professor Gus. He tapped a crop to a chalk board. A depiction of Rainbow Caverns already drawn. "Rainbow Caverns was not built by any Toon who lives in Wasteland, but did inspire Oswald and other to begin adding to our dismal world." Oswald, Donald, and Goofy were drawn with hammers in their hands. "In fact, when our world was created, the Caverns were the very first attraction to present themselves. None of us know who or what created them." Citizens appeared with question marks around their heads. "The Rainbow Caverns are considered a wonder of Wasteland, and continue to be the fascination of study everywhere."

"No kidding!" Cecelia gaped. She'd like to study it too when she has a chance.

"There's more to be seen ahead if you're interested." He teased. If she's interested, what a question. "Through here we should reach the Projector Substation. We're sure to discover the underlying problems there."

"And hopefully fix the projectors." Oswald isn't in the mood to travel to the four corners for one mission.

They followed a set of ornate mine cart tracks to a connecting hallway. The stunted stretch of hallway was built from scratch from the floor up, preventing further cave ins. The cave was at its weakest in this area, therefore the Gremlins built a sturdy tunnel so they wouldn't lose their only way into the caverns. It's holding up nicely. The way into the next area was open. None of them were able to make it two steps. A blinding red light shined down on them, and the sliding door slammed in their faces. Oswald, Mickey, and Cecelia shielded their wincing eyes, looking up at a blazing mechanical eye above the door.

"Oh dear! That wasn't here before!" Gus hollered. The pupil narrowing and widening caused the light to spin. Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald staggered backwards, the light following them until their feet left the metal for the rock. Once the eyes closed, the door opened again. The trio would be seeing red for a week.

"What the heck is that thing?!" Oswald screeched.

"A security eye!" Gus hissed. "Any unrecognized personnel who approach are locked out."He thrust his hand back and forth, taunting the eye's lightning reflex. "Now who could have installed that?!" Gus frothed at the mouth.

Cecelia hummed incredulously, leering heatedly at the eye. Convenient how an all seeing eye, that wasn't there previously, is barring all four of them from accessing the sole means of fixing the projectors. Almost as if someone is relying upon the broken projectors. _Now I wonder who could have done that?_ "Why don't we ask a friend?" Cecelia crooned. She tapped her pin, bringing it close to her mouth. "Prescott? Do you read me?"

" _Loud and clear! In trouble already? Wow, this is a new record for you._ " He snickered.

"Not me, you moron! There's this red, beaming eye shutting a door in our faces down here in the caverns! Do you know who put it here?"

" _Red eye closing doors...Oh! The Optical Lockdown Mechanism!_ " Must be the long winded technical name for it. " _I know a few have been installed in certain areas, but I wasn't aware of one in Rainbow Caverns._ " No surprise there. If Gus isn't aware, then no one is. Usually. " _I'll ask around and see if anyone knows about it. In the meantime, you need to find a way to be invisible to that eye._ " Oswald ogled Cecelia's spellbook. He didn't have to ask before she signaled she doesn't know any invisibility spells. " _I'll contact you when I have more information._ " He ended the call.

"I don't suppose there's a way to blind the eye, is there?" Mickey asked hopefully.

"There is, actually!" Gus darted in the opposite direction, circling a well overlooked by a statue of a fairy. An elegant fairy wearing a crown. She was beautiful. Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia ogled Gus curiously as he studied the monument, humming out loud in thought. He ran a finger along the edge of the well, grounding dust between his fingers, perturbed by how dried up it had become. He blew off flakelets of old paint, choking on what snaked into his throat. "This inkwell is usually overflowing with invisible ink. Exactly what we need to slip past that eye." He cursed himself a fool for not noticing sooner. The toon surrounding the well was thinned out. The guardian pool in the small trench was bland and grey. "Mickey, if you paint in the toon around the fountain, it will start to fill with invisible ink. And who knows…" He hovered over the guardian pool, "A guardian or two might thank you in the long run."

Mickey shrugged his shoulders and got to work on the blank spaces of toon around the mine. Rock, gems, crystals, and a couple of mine carts filled in the voids. The grey rippling pool shaded to a brilliant cerulean blue. The statue's stone skin obtain a flush of revitalized color, sparkles radiating from the eyes. From the palms of the statue's hands, sky blue ink spilled and filled the well to the brim, miraculously never splashing to the ground.

"Remarkable! Now, all of you, go ahead and jump in!" Gus encouraged. "But be careful. The ink is slippery. Move too fast and it will slip right off." He teleported out and reappeared on the other side of the tunnel, waving to his friends. Never have the envied a gremlin so much.

The trio nodded to one another. One at a time they plugged their noses and plunge inside the well. The well spat them back out instantly, as see through as a plate of glass. As fun as it would be to admire the blurry hues they created, the ink was dripping off of them fast. Gus warned them not to move too fast. A bit counterintuitive. But it's their only way to make it past that door. The trio dove into the well one more time, then moved for the door in a brisk walk. Gus is prone to jokes, but he underestimated how slippery the ink was. Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia barely touched the metal flooring and already their heads and shoulders were becoming visible. The eye didn't turn a head at their approach thus far. But the ink was slipping fast, and the door was still a good 20 feet away. Mickey's hand, Oswald's ears, and Cecelia's tail showed. Flickers of neon red rays jolted the slamming door an inch each time, sending shocks through their hearts. This would be dangerously close.

Mickey was the first to make it, releasing the breath he held the entire way. He shook off the remaining ink, prying open the next set of doors into another cavern. Gus pat him on the back, commending him for his leap. Mickey would scold him for ditching them, but he was out of breath. Cecelia and Oswald were nearly halfway through. Cecelia murmured a mantra to help herself move at an easy going pace, warning herself not to become too excited at the encroaching door. Oswald was steadily losing patience, quickening his pace, and drying the ink from his body faster. The eye darted in his direction, the pupil narrowing to a dot towards him. He hissed through gritted teeth, rooting to a spot. The ink stopped dripping and the eye seemed to lose interest and go offline. He'd sneak the tiniest step. The eye would twitch, making him freeze again. Cecelia gaped in dismay, then looked to the eye and Mickey. He was biting on his nails, his heart pounding in his chest. He moved to lend him a hand. His fingertips were basked in the red light. Mickey shot his hand back before the door had a chance to leave its slot. Gus caught him by the shoulder, utterly gobsmacked by his foolish bravery. Though he shared Mickey's desire. Oswald's stuck, and the ink was almost gone from him.

Cecelia licked her dry lips, glaring at that eye. Regardless if Oswald went into the well again, the results may very well be the same every time. Cecelia wanted to wait, but now is as good a time as any to test a theory. taking a couple steps back. She placed her left hand on her book, closing her eyes. Numbness gloved her palm, specks of black mist streaked around her wrist and up her arm, like dozens of whisking comets. Oswald and Mickey gawked at her, mesmerized by the outline glazing up to her shoulder, streams wafting off her like steam. She inhaled the mist through her nose, savoring the icy hot sensations snaking her neck, the aroma of charred roses massaging her skull. Thin shades of black traced her lips. She tilted her head up and gently blew. A dense cloud of black smoke circled the eye, coaxing it closed.

"GO!" Cecelia rammed into Oswald, both breaking into a sprint. The invisible ink fell off as they passed, and the cloud dissipated. Oswald and Cecelia lurched forward panting, hands on their knees as they fought to remain standing. "Can't believe that worked!" She flicked her left hand, shaking off the tingling. _By the spirits! It worked!_

"Was that a spell?!" Oswald gasped. Cecelia bobbed her head. "I thought your magic was gone! How did you do that?!"

Another aftershock struck violently before she could even open her mouth. Pebbles and a handful of gemstones sprinkled onto their heads. From the inside out vibrations rumbled in a thunderstorm. Gaping cracks ruptured the ceiling, snaking from one end to the other. Rocks growing in size narrowly missed Oswald and Mickey. Gus and Cecelia danced between debris. A protruding rock tripped Mickey, dropping him underneath a grouping of razor tipped stalagmites. The shocks weren't so lenient on their subsiding. Veins holding the rocks were severed clean. The stalagmites broke free into a shrieking plummet for the mouse. Mickey curled into a ball, wrapping his arms around his head.

" _STOP!_ " Cecelia screeched, thrusting her yellow glowing hand.

Mickey quaked like the very ground he was cowering on, waiting with tears in his eyes for the rocks to shred his flesh. The impact never came. Mickey erected an ear, flapping it for the supposedly falling rocks. Poking an eye up, he turned over in abject awe of the sharp points bobbing a hair from his face. Strained grunting broke him from the spikes, dropping his jaw at Cecelia. Sweat was beading down her porcelain face, stinging her glowering eyes. She had her book on the floor, hand firmly planted on the cover. The same yellow specks of mist snaking her left arm were feeding from her extended right hand. Similar to mist on her lips. Oswald and Gus were at a loss for words. Though they shouldn't be. Cecelia's used far more impressive spells than this. The sight of her struggling to maintain what they assume is a simple spell is what took them aback.

"Can...you...GRAH!" Her arm was giving under the weight. Mickey snapped out of his stupor and rolled away. Cecelia collapsed to the ground. The rocks crumbled to a pile on contact, adding a couple more holes to the cavern. Mickey, Oswald, and Gus shivered at the prospect of Mickey being in the middle. "Ohh…" Cecelia groaned wearily, rolling on her back. Her small chest rose and fell, raspy breaths igniting her lungs.

"Are you alright?" Mickey rushed to help her sit up.

"Yeah...just...not used...to siphoning!" She choked on her breath, planting a hand to her throbbing chest. There was an incessant twitching in her numb right arm. The room was spinning fiercely as she willed herself to her feet.

"Is that what that is?" Gus raised a brow, amazed she was able to walk.

"Uh-Huh. Sorcerers have the ability to borrow magic from other people or items." She explained as they proceeded for the Substation. The cavern's glorious aesthetic was tainted by the seemingly bottomless drops. Cecelia's stomach wasn't with her. Gus had to help her bridge a few gaps and geysers while her strength replenished itself. Walking was a trial for her. Jumping from paint geyser to a platform past a gaping pit wasn't an option. "I have to hold onto this if I want to light at least three. The second I let go…well..." She cast her stare to Mickey, then to the spikes on the ceiling for a gruesome result. Mickey appreciates her not letting go of the book.

Oswald tapped a fist to his palm, gasping with an epiphany. "That's why you wanted your book so badly! But if its so unreliable, why do it?"

"It's all I have until I find where my magic is being kept."

Oswald stroked his chin thoughtfully. That made sense. "That's right. Someone here in Wasteland is hanging on to your magic." He murmured to himself.

"Under normal circumstances, stolen magic will return to its host after a time." A day, an hour - the time varies between sorcerers. The longest recorded was three days. That's because the sorcerer was visiting Hades in the Underworld for a weird orientation. But that's a different story.

Cecelia and Oswald put their conversation on pause in order to focus on the next gap. Gus offered to help, but she insisted on doing it herself. She got in a running start, closing her eyes on her leap of shaky faith. She tripped on the landing, tumbling upside down to a rough bed of gems. Oswald, Mickey, and Gus leapt after her. She motioned a hand, assuring them she was fine. It only looked like it hurt. She shook of her less than graceful stumble and faced the ledge above. She stepped to the rock, grabbing hold of the ledge with trembling fingers. Mickey and Oswald beat her up the climb, lending her the hand she was too proud to ask for. She may ask for their helps on the geysers. She wasn't ready for those. Gradually, Cecelia's strength was returning to her. Breaching smaller gaps was becoming easier for her. The rising and falling geysers, on the other hand, weren't being friendly to her timid stomach.

Once they were back on a solid stretch of land, Oswald's mind began to drift to their previous conversation. Somewhere within Wasteland, someone is holding Cecelia's magic in a container of sort, hanging onto it so it couldn't return to her. He couldn't help the laugh at it being stuck in a pickle jar. Cecelia will flip out. But, being serious again, whoever is trapping her magic is taking extra measures to make sure they can't return to Cecelia, and so that she can't find them. What little he's learned of magic, he understands that magic can't be destroyed, only transferred from one container to the next. Cecelia, as a host, can harness magic at will. But because of that weird ritual, that _at will_ is now _at expense._ If she wants to light a candle, she has to hold that book. Saving Mickey from those boulders nearly knocked her unconscious. It angers him that someone in his home would dislike Cecelia so much to have done this to her. Although, in his heart, he doesn't want to believe anyone would do this. Not even the Doc.

"Cecelia-"

"WATCH OUT!" Mickey yanked Oswald by the scruff. Globs of thinner splash and ate through the toon rock. Oswald shuddered as steam from the thinner brushed his soles. He and the other gawked to where the thinner came from. A paint geyser had to lower, but sure enough a Sweeper had come to greet them. And he had a friend with a bucket of thinner ready. They drew the buckets back. Mickey splashed his own thinner at them. The Sweepers cowered behind their buckets, laughing when the thinner missed. Mickey smirked impishly, pointing down for them to look. When they did, they gulped. ( _Yodle-adle-ee-ooo_ ) A dark abyss past a thinned out slab of rock. They waved goodbye and disappeared into the abyss. "That was a close one."

"No kidding! Thanks, Mickey!" Oswald caught his breath. Gus and Cecelia were tempted to make a joke about watching his step, but they were more evolved.

The cave was coming up on a dead end. The four road the final geyser to the next ledge, jaws dropping in dismay of the well spring of thinner in their path. An elevated stretch of rock completely glazed over in heavy flowing waterfall of thinner from pockets in the arch above it. Were it not for the pool at the bottom, the entire cavern would be a river. Mickey hated to be the bearer of even more bad news, but their way to the Substation was past the thickly falling thinner at the top of the spring. Oh goodie. Their trip has been too easy thus far. What with the jumping, the eye, the geysers, and the Sweepers. Why not throw a wall of thinner in their way. Oswald's capable of creating force fields with his remote, but nothing that can withstand thinner. Cecelia wasn't an option either. Nothing she knows can defend against thinner falling that heavy.

"Look up there!" Gus animatedly pointed to the fountain serving as the spring's figurehead. Hand carved rock shaped into a menacing grinning cat. The paws gripping to a well similar to the one the fairy statue had. The difference is this well was filled to the brim with golden ink. "That ink is as hard as a lobster's shell. Even thinner will slide off!" And so their luck holds up. "But we must be careful." And there's the but. "The shell breaks as you move, and if you get hit too many times it will chip away. On the plus side, you'll be able to catch your breath against enemies." Ever the optimistic Gus. Always a silver lining in everything.

Oswald spotted places on the spring where the thinner didn't flow. That was their ticket up. Barely two steps in and gargled cackling rooted them in place. Six more Sweepers emerged from behind the protrusions of crystal, their gargled cackling raising the hairs on the four's necks. Back to back they stood, brush, book, remote, and wrench at the ready, whipping side to side as they were surrounded. The Sweepers tilted their buckets, taunting the trapped group with their filling thinner. Drips hissing and bubbling as it ate through the floor. Gus cringed in revulsion. Cecelia, on the other hand, got an idea.

The six Sweepers drew their buckets back for a group attack. Cecelia slapped a hand to her book. Blue outlines shared from her left to right hand, and she swiped it down. Blue hand prints branded to the Sweeper buckets, smacking the buckets to the ground. Thinner spilled at their bristle legs, chasing them back like flies from bug spray. Cecelia swept her hand across the air. Blue mist shaded the spilled thinner, stretching it underneath and trapping the Sweepers in an adhesive. Mickey and Oswald then went loose with their remote and brush. Oswald shot electrical streams to the charmed thinner. Hundreds of volts surged inside and out of the Sweepers, turning them into lightning rods. Mickey twirled his brush like a baton, a dome of thinner rain around them. The Sweepers howled in agony, shielding themselves in vain of the shower. They moaned in despair as they melted, becoming puddles on the ground. The clever trio boastfully blew imaginary steam off their lethal weapons. One year or ten, they still got it. This is one for their highlight reel.

Gus was able to teleport past the falls. Oswald, Cecelia, and Mickey climbed one at a time to the well, submerging themselves in the surprisingly heavy ink. When the well spat them out, their feet hit ground like a stick on a gong. Their whole body vibrated head to toe, making them dizzy. The invisibility ink was light as a sheet, and gentle as a feather. The Indelible ink was aggressive on the body. The weight was similar to wearing a weighted vest with studs on the inside. Breathing hurt a little. They had to wrenched their bodies in order to take one step, grunting loudly at the strain. Their nerves jolted as thinner splashed on. The sensations as it slid clean off were strange beyond words. When they were on the other side, the trio tore at the shelling, taking in fresh air as the weight literally lifted off of them. That's ink they don't want to use for a while. The same is wished for the D.E.C. A highly probable _not likely_ came to mind.

Crossing a rock balanced to a spire had to have been the easiest part of this irritatingly long jaunt underground. Simple weight distribution and they were on the other side, arriving to a door with Snow White and Prince Charming on the front. Oswald and Mickey grabbed hold of the levers on either side, pushing the fated lovers together. Their lips meeting released the inner locks. Cecelia and Gus pushed the doors open. The Projector Substation opened before them, basking in angel's light. The hallelujah music coming from critters lurking in the ceiling. The running gag for Wasteland always itching for a _miracle._

Mickey and Cecelia were going to fall unconscious if they keep being amazed by everything they come across. After what they've been through in the past year, it was a wonder of ten worlds how they can still be shocked by what Wasteland has to offer. First to capture their attention was the machine in the middle of the room. Five metal tubes connected to empty canisters around the sides, leading to the five funnels retracted at the flowing Rainbow Falls. The catchers at the ends had traces of paint on them. Monuments of the seven dwarves were bathed in the array of colors. To the left was a projector beneath an envy green demon, and the right projector was a blessed blue angel. A cavern with two different roads to take to make it out of there. Makes them wonder what else is beneath Wasteland.

"So this is the wonder of Wasteland…" Mickey marveled. The cavern was breathtaking. The ceiling seemed to rise endlessly. Pleasant hums road on the soft breeze circulating the cavern, an orchestra of baritone echoes singing in their ears. "Amazing."

"No kidding…" Cecelia's eyes sparkled as brightly as the gems in the previous cave. This was a hot photo opportunity Adele would kill for. She snapped a quick photo, admiring the high resolution composite. "All of this beneath Wasteland. Wow."

"And this isn't even half of it!" Oswald guffawed. "Those projectors lead to the Angel and Demon halves of Rainbow Cavern, which can take us to all new areas of Wasteland not even I knew about!" He moved in close, lowering his voice to a whisper, "I haven't even had a chance to investigate them." Now Mickey and Cecelia were impressed. Getting the projector's running was starting to excite them.

"Before we plan our vacation," Gus interjected, "There is something you all should see by the overlook at the falls." He flew to the Dwarf Monuments. Oswald, Mickey, and Cecelia shared quirked brows, racing to the overlook. Gus tapped on the offline mechanic arm mounted to the wall of the falls. The metal was ice cold from lack of long term use. "The funnels you see here are supposed to draw power from the falls. However, as you can see, they've been rendered inoperable, and are the cause behind our projector problems."

"Tell me there's a way to fix them." Cecelia begged. She's not in the mood to backtrack.

"There might be!" Oswald announced. He analyzed a generator at the edge of the overlook. Considering the falls have been offline for a while, the device was in good shape. The quakes haven't touched it. "Generator's like this have access ports inside to protect from hazardous areas." An ancient cave is as hazardous as it gets. "Mickey, pull on that switch right there! I'll handle the rest." Mickey grabbed hold of the switch, which was coincidentally shaped in his image. He kept to himself how handsome it was. He pulled and the access port sprouted from the top. Oswald accessed the terminal, the power coming to life in a whirl.

Caked on paint hardened in the funnels joints broke off, falling into the gorge. The buckets caught the flowing array of paint. The paint flooded to the tubing connected along the funnels, fueling power through the projector pipes. The whirring vibrating the cavern walls was music to their ears. Once the funnels have had a chance to fill, and the Substation returns to full power, the projectors will be good as new again. The first victory in a long stretch.

Oswald and Mickey bumped fists and slapped hands, chuckling triumphantly. "HEY!" The bark sent them ten feet in the air, into Cecelia's arms. She growled impatiently, earning weak chuckles. Gus searched for the barker, itching his brow. "Down here ya yutzes!" One ear simultaneously propped from the animal trio. They and GUs reared their attention to the grate surrounding the machine. Mickey and Cecelia's stomachs flipped at the sight of a Pete in a dress below the floor. "What'cha doin' up dare?!"

"We COULD ask you the same question, SMALL PETE!" Gus retaliated agitated.

"Ugh!" Cecelia hissed, tossing Oswald and Mickey to their butts. She fixed her sleeves, glaring at the Pete with hands on her hips. "And I thought Big Bad ruined my day!" She has half a mind to cook him in the steam spraying him right now. Mickey pat her shoulder, assuaging her unwise course of action.

"Well, well, well. If it ain't Mickey da Hero and Cecelia the Side-Kitty!" Small Pete mockingly cooed in a baby tone. "Come to rescue us helpless little Toons from dah big bad earthquakes." Mickey's brow furrowed. On second thought, he might just let Cecelia boil him alive. "Hey, Kitten Cat, ain't you got a Gremlin to go smoochin'?!" A twisted grin split his face down the middle. "Or are duh rumors true and dat paradise has turned to tar?" He cackled menacingly.

Cecelia's pupils narrowed to slits. Veins popped in her tightly balled fists. Oswald, Mickey, and Gus froze in terror. She grit her teeth, growling ferally as her teeth sharpened to fangs. Blue and white lightning surged between her erect ears. "That's enough nastiness!" Gus wrapped a stray piece of tarp to her ear and pulled her onto her butt. The fabric absorbed much of the stray blast, the inadvertent ricochet shocking Cecelia instead. "Back to our previous question," He ripped the tarp off, resisting laughing at her static clinging fro, "What are you doing down there, Small Pete?!" He poured water to flatten Cecelia's hair.

"ME?!" He stressed, feeling accused. "Well, see, I WAS workin' in here before de quake hit, and den duh projectors went down!" Matches up with other accounts. Although it kind of makes him a suspect in regards to the broken projectors. "I've been tryin' tuh get dem fixed ever since. Once they're fixed I can finally get outta here!"

"YAH!" Blue paint sprayed Oswald from behind, drenching him from ears to toes. He scrambled from paint pooling to the floor, gushing out of a disconnected pipe in the wall. Cecelia and Gus spun at the green paint behind the wall's propeller, and red paint spraying from separate pipes. Mickey tilted his head to the purple paint leaking from above. And the separate white paint mixed with the blue. They have a sickening feeling that's not supposed to happen.

"I'm sittin' here, tryin' tuh fix de machine, AND DEN YOU GO AND TURN IT ON!" The four cringed, feeling karma's barrage of arrows nail them in the pride. "Now tanks to you guys dare's all sort of problems!" In spite of their previous, silently made accusation, Oswald and the others might be able to admit they...jumped the gun without inspecting the Substation first. Inadvertently making Small Pete's job slightly harder. He wasn't finished with them yet. He added insult to injury by cooing at them, "See dose pipes? Dey all need to be taken care of? SO GET TO IT!"

"How about I just drown you and we call it even?!" Cecelia snapped. She can guide the blue and white paint down there and watch him writhe.

"Come on!" Oswald dragged her by the wrist. Not kicking and screaming, but she dragged her heels in protest. "Let's fix our mess and get going!"

"You mutts can start by pushing dose two couplin' dare into the blue and white pipes!" Small Pete sardonically advised. Oswald and Mickey bit their own insults back. The two positioned themselves on either coupling. "Well, whaddya waitin' for?! PUSH IT INTO THE COUPLIN' ALREADY!" His cacophonous tone raised their adrenaline. Digging in their heels, and staving off the chills the shrill grinding ushered, they moved the couplings into place. The locks did the rest, allowing paint to flow through the pipes and begin powering the station. The circling floor grate was proof things were getting underway. Small Pete decided to leave the rest up to them, returning to his work. "Nice work! De pipe's runnin' nice an' smooth like butter! Gotta say, I was shocked." Oswald and Cecelia raised incredulous brows, curious of the compliment. "Considerin' it was duh two o' yous who fixed it!" And there's the insult. Oswald's twitchy finger hovered over his remote's button. Cecelia shoved it down, moving him towards the angel projector. They both could use an angel right now. "Now finish up, ya mutts!"

"Here's one…" Mickey cautiously approached the razor edged propeller guarding the next pipe. He wasn't sure he'd like to become the swiss cheese he enjoys eating. The propeller wasn't made of toon either. But the gears were. "Easy...easy…" Mickey held his brush with both hands, closing an eye. A thin stream of thinner erased the gears spinning the propeller, easing it into stop. Mickey bridged the wall, connecting the piping and adding another color to the machine in the middle.

"Another pipe runnin' smooth! And to think it was almost made impossible!" Small Pete's hazing continued. "Git to de last one so I can get outta here!" Mickey has half a mind to drown him himself.

Gus bobbed his head in approval. The cavern was coming alive again, pumping blood back into the dried veins of Wasteland. Things were coming along smoothly. Semi-smoothly, he should say. He doesn't want to get too far ahead. That's when the real trouble starts. And trouble was spilling from a second level platform. He flew up to the next pipe, spitting up paint that splashed up on the ascent. "Right-o…" He groaned, cleaning off his face. He grasped the lever, joining the pipes together. "Done!" He wiped sweat from his brow.

"Okay! That's the ticket!" Small Pete clapped. Paint was pumping new life into the machine, fueling up the projectors for another round. Rainbow caverns was coming alive again, the projector's were on the verge of joining the lands, and soon Wasteland's moral would rise with it. Calm would set, and the people will be able to leave their homes without panicking over cracks in the ground. "Maybe you lot CAN be helpful after all! Who'd a thunk it!" He's just laying it on thick. All his idea to get the projector's working, and all the praise when the people ask how it happened. "Say there, pallies! De paint's got duh machine all ready to get duh projector's up and runnin'. All you gots tuh do is turn it on. And don't worry. You can't possibly make things worse. SO LET'S GET GOIN'!"

"THAT'S IT!" Cecelia lunged. Gus caught her by her underarms and lifted her three feet off the ground. She kicked and flailed, shouting curses for Gus to let her tear Small Pete a new one.

Mickey and Oswald got to work on activating the machine before a new shade of red stained the floor. Mickey pulled another mouse shaped switch, producing an access port from the top of the projector machine. Oswald cracked the coding, and it was up and running. A satellite dish sprouted, growing two other transmitters and receivers to connect with projectors all across Wasteland. To top of this success, Small Pete didn't make a wise crack about how useless or useful they were. Good for him. The four of them were out for blood if he opened his mouth again.

Crackling came from Oswald's remote, high pitched frequency squeaking coming from the antenna. " _ **OSWALD! I'm on your frequency!**_ " The Mad Doctor sang over the line, startling Oswald. Gus and Cecelia's thirst for blood escalated. And not entirely in part to him still singing! And why he's choosing song and dance to prove himself was annoyingly baffling. " _ **There's wonderful news coming down!**_ " Reception was terrible in the caverns, breaking up on The Mad Doctor's end. Oswald tapped on the remote, placing an ear to the speaker." _ **Hurry to my lab in the Gulch and I'll tell you!**_ " Cecelia and Mickey mouthed about the Gulch. The Mad Doctor's lab was in the Haunted Mansion's attic. The one sort of burnt to a crisp. " _ **WAIT!**_ " The four paused. " _ **What is...that...sound?**_ " From there the call was cut, nothing but static. Oswald beat on the remote again to raise him. The Mad Doctor was gone.

"Uh-oh! Sounds like the Doc's in trouble!" Mickey panicked.

"Oh man…" Cecelia moaned, sucking on her lips. Then she threw her hands up, "Oh well, his loss. Let's go back to OsTown and-"

"NOT SO FAST!" Oswald yanked her tail, plopping her on her butt again. He glared at her, "The Doc said he has some good news for us, and is in trouble!" He clamped a hand over her mouth so she wouldn't insult him with the roundabout about him being the trouble. That'd be too easy. "We're going to his lab and we're going to help him! Besides, this'll prove once and for all that he isn't the one who stole your magic!" And he is determined to clear The Doc's name.

"Dang it!" She pouted. She hated it when he made sense. She huffed angrily through her nose, shaking her head. The worst part of this one sided ultimatum is, regardless if she protests until she's blue in the face, Oswald won't rest until The Mad Doctor is seen in the same light he sees him in. A light he doesn't deserve and shouldn't even be considered for. Unfortunately, Cecelia swore to Oswald that she'd give him the benefit of the doubt. And Yensid raised her to keep her word. "Ugh! How do we get to his lab from here?!" She conceded.

"Well dat dare projector should take ya into duh heart of Rainbow Caverns." Small Pete elucidated. Either the angel or demon halves of the caverns. "From dare it's just a hop, skip, and a jump over to duh Gulch." Cecelia scathingly rolled her eyes. The one time a Pete is helpful. "Well, whaddya Mutts waitin' fur?! Go be heroes already! Us regular Toons are gonna be stuck with duh clean up no matter what ya do anyway!" While his point is as irritating as he is, Cecelia wondered if he complained this much after the mess The Blot and Doctor made last time.

"You heard him, fellas!" Mickey chimed in. "Let's get going!"

"We can use either the angel or demon projectors to reach our destination." Gus informed them.

"Then I say we split up." Cecelia declared, dusting her hands of the filth that seems to be sticking to them. "You guys take the devil half. I'll stick with the angel half." She turned on her heels, storming for the projector.

"What? Why?" Oswald gasped with parted arms, chasing after her.

Cecelia whipped around, grasping Oswald by the collar. She smashed their noses together, her demonic glare shredding the not-so-lucky rabbit to tatters. "I've had enough devils in my life!" She shoved him into Mickey's arms. "Maybe the angels will clarify who it is I'm helping this time around!"

"CECELIA!" Mickey beckoned. Cecelia leapt into the projector without another thought. Gus and Mickey shared apprehensive glances. Suddenly, the path they've been traveling together felt a lot like brittle glass. Bending the further out they walk, and keeling to the bearing down weight adding on. Gradually, nearly invisible cracks are perforating that glass floor. A devastating trail being left in Cecelia's darkening wake. Neither Gus nor Mickey can blame her for how she is handling this. They'd be shocked if she was fully on board.

Oswald, utterly stunned by the death glare her received, felt a prick in his chest. Not in fear either. _Maybe the angels will clarify who it is I'm helping._ Those words cut him to the core. He's known Cecelia's feelings towards him trusting in The Doctor from the get go, and she agreed to trust him to know what he's doing. But to help the man who aided the monster in not only almost destroying Wasteland, but came close to killing her and everyone she'd grown to care for? How can he not expect her to react like this? What he can't expect, however, is for him to leave things as they are.

"You two take the devil side!" Oswald marched for the angel projector. "We'll meet you on the other side!" He jumped in after her.

Mickey and Gus had no intention of stopping him. They're just fearful of what might happen next.

 **To be continued**


	9. That First Date

**That First Date**

 **Moving on.**

 **xxx**

Prescott drummed his fingers anxiously beside his idle pin, pretending to be fuming over blueprints for his glove's upgrade. He lost interest in those plans an hour after Cecelia's last transmission. Chills were still running over his skin. The test run informing him of their current position, and the speed at which they were moving. He mapped their route on a separate sheet of plans based on where they encountered the Security Optic. From there they should have passed the geysers and come to the Indelible Ink Well. The Invisible Ink would have been a treat for them. The ink heavy as lead will definitely strain a muscle or two, but it won't deter them. The Projector Substation where Small Pete has been working will soon follow. They will undoubtedly aid him in fixing the station and work in reactivating the projectors. From there...they will come back to Mean Street and OsTown to see if they've succeeded in fixing the projectors.

Their every step is calculated thus far. Their next move will be to get the Substation up and running again. What isn't calculated for is how long before they finish activating the station? And where they are heading now? COming back to Mean Street or OsTown would be the logical option, and plays to Oswald and Mickey's sense of heroics. Cecelia, on the other hand, leads herself by impulse rather than logic. And that impulse has led her down the path she is walking now. Where she will wind up will be dependant on her. She is the wild car in this game he's mingled in. A very dangerous...and beloved wild card.

 _Cecelia..._ He hummed mentally. Truth be told, he's wanted her to come by for the past five months. To have her reach out to him from the magic mirror she lent him a while before that dreaded argument. He has it hanging in his spare bedroom he arranged in the Gag Factory. All Prescott has to do is say the name of the person he wants to see, and the mirror will link him to the reflective surface that person close to. In other words, the jokester mirror that Cecelia said played a trick when it summoned Mickey. They've had their back and forths with that mirror - hilarious and serious, and they've shared notes on their latest discoveries or experiments. All of that ended with the exchange of sour words. Their argument all that time ago still tears at his heart. Inadvertently was the thin wall that kept them just out of each other's reach fixed in place, putting them at odds once more.

"It's seems so long ago...that day…" He sighed heavily, resting his head somberly to his folded arms.

 **xxx**

 **Flashback Five Months Ago**

 _It was falling on the afternoon in OsTown. Wasteland was still traumatized by The Blot Disaster. The Thinner Disaster was succeeded by The Blot Disaster - so labeled by Daisy Duck. The people worked tirelessly on restoring their regions to their former glory. Needless to say, the repairs weren't as expedient as they would have liked. The Gremlins did their part in fixing the delicate mechanics of Wasteland. Including the Projectors, which were at a standstill due to a 'disagreement' exchanged between Gus and Prescott. Now the Purple Gremlin was back in his Gag Factory, obsessing over blueprints with Jamface alongside him._

" _Hmm...hmm...HMMM…"_

" _HMM, WHAT?!" Jamface blurted aggravated. Prescott's been humming like that for the past hour over those blueprints of his. "Have you made a breakthrough with your new project, or not?" He was steadily losing patience over the suspense. Prescott's been mulling over those blueprints to upgrade the projectors for months now. Gus turned down his first idea due to safety issues, and therefore asked Jamface to work on it again with him. The idea is to create split route for people to pass through. Increase the thrill instead of using the same route every time. Prescott wasn't happy to be assigned an assistant, but dealt with it to get Gus off his back._

" _I stopped working on that over an hour ago!" Prescott growled, leaning a bored elbow to the blueprints idling on the desk. "I'm working on something else."_

" _Huh?" Jamface's brow bounced irately. He wishes Prescott would have mentioned that sooner. He has a life outside of work! Markus and Copernicus invited him to a game over in Tomorrow City that he had to turn down. Maybe if he hurries he can make it before it starts. "If that is the case, Mon Ami, I will be you adieu!" Prescott waved an indifferent hand. He moved away from his work desk, dusting off the wasted time he spent twiddling his thumbs. As he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of a thick book lazily propped open in Prescott's one hand. "What in…" He tilted his head, trying to sneak at what he was trying to hide. Silently he crept up behind Prescott, stretching his head over his shoulder. The book had a photo of a new restaurant opened in Ventureland,_ _The Frying Dutchman._ _While the title is scary, many review that it is an adorable place. Perfect for...couples! "OH-HO!" Prescott cringed and smashed the book against his chest. Jamface snickered like an impish cat. Fingers pressed at his lips. "Prescott, you Devil!"_

" _YOU MORON! DON'T SNEAK UP ON PEOPLE LIKE THAT!" Prescott fumed with red cheeks, shoving the book into his desk. "And what are you talking about 'devil'?"_

 _Jamface chuckled menacingly, wriggling his brow like a worm. "I thought you were acting strangely, my friend." His grin widened. "That new restaurant is attracting all sorts of attention." He moved in closer, his sly smirk irking Prescott and deepening his blush. "Has it grabbed yours, mon ami? Planning a late night rendezvous with a certain kitten of yours?"_

" _Do not make it sound so indecent!" Prescott warned, shoving him away. "And if you must know…" He pursed his lips, shyly twisting to the side to shield his bashfulness, "I may or may have not asked Cecelia to join me there this evening."_

" _I KNEW IT!" Jamface threw his arms around the grouchy Gremlin, cackling like a madman. Prescott's protests were drowned out by his enthusiastic chortling. "You're going to ask her! You're finally going to ask for her hand!"_

 _Prescott's entire body turned scarlet red. "NO-I-AM-NOT!" He barked, pushing Jamface off by the shoulders. "I'm not going to ask her to marry me! I'm…" He bit his lip, his tongue tying itself. Jamface tilted his head at Prescott's sheepish behavior. The purple gremlin licked his lips, diverting his eyes to the floor. "I...was going to ask...her to stay here...with me…" Jamface cooed adoringly, cupping his hands and sparkling like a jewel. "Will you stop that?! Besides…" Prescott growled under his breath, glaring at the clock, "My plans will be for naught if she's late!"_

" _That place is reservation only, yes? What time did you reserve your table?"_

" _For 7:00pm." It was already 6:15. "What is she doing?"_

" _Maybe she can't get back here."_

" _She can." Prescott reassured him. He ogled at his room, thinking on the mirror placed on the wall. It does more than just let Prescott and Cecelia communicate._

 **Flashback End**

 **xxx**

The projector brought Cecelia and Oswald into an old town bathed in the cover of night. Lights within the homes would flicker on and off, echoing with the sinister cackling of the creatures lurking in the darkness. Bats fluttered at the belfries, screeching loudly and hungering for a meal. Windows opening and slamming shut, street lamps flickering with demonic faces imprinted. Ghosts escaping their imprisonment moaned torturously, disappearing on the eerily blowing wind. It reminded Cecelia of Bog Easy. Oddly enough, she wasn't unnerved. After last year's experience, nothing ghostly can shake her. Especially not when she's infuriated by the fact she's being strong armed into helping the one man responsible for her terrors last year.

"Hm…" Cecelia's fuming was halted by a strange sensation. This feeling someone was thinking about her. She doesn't know why, but when she brought out her pin, she began thinking about her conversation with Prescott. Before they embarked on their journey to Rainbow Caverns, they reminisced about their argument a long time ago. Cecelia isn't sure why she's thinking about it now. Something in the back of her mind just brought it up.

"Is everything okay?" Oswald asked from the blue. "With you and Prescott, I mean." Cecelia ogled him perplexedly. He pointed at the pin. "You've been staring at that pin for a while, you had me concerned."

"Oh! No! Everything's fine!" She laughed nervously, shoving the pin back into her pocket. "We're fine now. Nothing...to worry about…" She turned away, lowering her head. _We sure weren't back then, though...were we Prescott?_

 **Flashback five months ago**

 _Yensid had left about an hour ago to go collect herbs in the garden. He was low on mint spring and toad weed. Everything he needs is conveniently grown in his private garden. Cecelia was asked if she wished to join him, but she declined. Ever since the curse was lifted off her, and her escaped in Wasteland, she's been inspired to try new techniques with magic and incantations. She was working on a written charm that can make her immune to spells directed at or surrounding her. Yensid left her to her business, and she's been working hard ever since. Much of her time was spent studying the characters she was using, referring to guides to ensure they are cohesive, and then carefully arranging them in an order in which they will work towards her goal. She was nearing a breakthrough when someone called her from the magic mirror over the mantel._

" _Cecelia?! Cecelia?!"_

" _Huh?" Cecelia removed a pair of reading glasses she'd been prescribed a while back. From studying so hard, her eyes started to go bad and had to wear glasses. She habitually fixed her long brown hair, removing strands from her brown eyes. She fixed her plaid skirt and partially unbuttoned uniform shirt, meandering to where she heard the voice. She beamed ardently, "PRESCOTT!" She raced to the mirror. Standing on a small stool, she wrapped her elbows on the mantel, giggling lovingly at her lover. "I see the mirror I gave you on my last visit is working!"_

" _Like a charm!" He boasted. "Anyway, we're going to be late if you don't get here!"_

" _Late for what?"_

" _Our reservations at The Frying Dutchman! Don't tell me you aren't ready yet!"_

" _UH!" Cecelia's head whipped to the clock. It was half past six. "AH! I COMPLETELY FORGOT!" Prescott slapped a hand to his forehead. He knew it. She caused a huge ruckus, tossing and flipping everything in sight to get ready to leave._

 _Yensid returned home from gathering herbs to the fray, arching a bewildered brow. She bewitched the comb, brush, and hair products, while she scrambled to brush her teeth and put makeup on. "Um, beloved granddaughter?" He tried to sound casual._

" _YES!" She darted past with her hair still being bombarded by products._

 _Yensid caught a hair ornament she decided to discard. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"_

" _I'M LATE! FOR A VERY IMPORTANT DATE!" She threw away a matching jewelry set she decided against._

 _Yensid chuckled halfhearted, deciding to spare themselves the insult of her historical rhetoric. "Late for what, Dear?" He set the herbs aside, then wriggled his fingers. Cecelia, half out of her mind in a panic, ran underneath the dust sprinkling down and was levitated a couple feet. "And please remain still as you explain."_

" _Prescott made reservations for us at this restaurant and I completely forgot!" She took over the brush and comb, fixing her bangs while stroking the rest of her hair. "We have to be there by seven!" She threw the brush and comb down, tossed a rubber band into her charm and had her long hair tied up. She left her bangs and extra hair drape at her ears, then snapped her fingers, producing hoop earrings and a choker._

" _Ah yes, the new restaurant open in Ventureland." Yensid recalls Cecelia going into vivid detail of it. Because she seemed to be in a rush, he waved a hand again. Cecelia's clothing transformed into a sleek, tube top black dress with a fluttering skirt, a white vest like top with a matching white belt with a golden buckle, and ankle high black boots. She flushed in adoration of the ensemble. She'd never be able to pull this off as a ten year old. "You both made a reservation two months ago, correct?"_

" _Yep!" She blushed ardently. "Prescott and I wanted to save it for our anniversary, but feared we'd never get the chance."_

 _Yensid's lips stretched into a catlike smile, "Anniversary? Of what?" He crooned._

 _Cecelia turned bright red, pursing her lips as she shuffled her shoulders. "Of...um...our first date…" It wasn't intended to be a date, especially after The Blot interrupted, but they decided it was the evening that revealed to one another what they meant to each other. "That first date was very special to us, so we decided it'd be best to do something that would make it equally special."_

" _Plans for an anniversary, eh?" He gently placed her back on the ground. "If I'm being frank, I was hoping you'd become serious with a young man of the same species." Cecelia puffed her red cheeks, flames in her brown eyes. He clamped his large hand over her face, chuckling adoringly. "But it pleases me you've found someone who loves you as much as I. I truly wish you the best."_

" _Thanks, Grandpa!" She blushed._

" _Now you'd better hurry!" He snapped his fingers, conjuring a matching purse. "Wouldn't want you to be late."_

" _Right!" She raced for the mirror. Yensid decided to walk her out._

 _Prescott reappeared in the mirror wearing a tuxedo, fixing his bowtie. He turned bright red seeing how cute Cecelia was. Steam whistled from his ears, and his bowtie spun like a pinwheel. "Wow…" He hummed, hearts in his eyes. "You look...amazing…" He dryly wheezed, losing his composure. Cecelia giggled flattered. She slid onto the mantel with her back to the mirror, closing her legs for the sake of her modesty. When Yensid appeared beside her to ensure she didn't fall, Prescott panicked and snapped at attention. "M-M-MR. YENSID! HELLO, SIR!" He broke into a sweat. "It's...It's great to see you again!"_

" _Likewise, Prescott." He chuckled. The boy was a nervous wreck. "Cecelia, you both mind yourselves."_

" _We will!" She promised._

" _And Prescott, please have my granddaughter back by midnight on your side."_

" _YES SIR!"_

" _Good. You both have a wonderful time."_

" _Thanks, Grandpa. Goodnight!" She kissed his forehead. Then, placing her palms to the mirror, she closed her eyes. Mist fanned from her palms across the mirror, causing the glass to ripple like water. Her palms fazed through, her knees slipped in, and soon the rest of her, bringing her to Prescott's room at the Gag Factory. Not a hair out of place. Prescott nearly darted out of the room in a shy hysteria. She was even more beautiful in person._

" _Good night, you two." Yensid excused himself, knowing she was in good hands._

" _Shall we?" Cecelia beamed, extending her hand._

" _UH, YES!" He shook himself from his stupor. He cleared his throat, fixing himself, and then fluttered to her with confidence. He took her hand, then casually slipped her hand to his arm. "Let our night begin."_

 **Flashback End**

"Hmph…" A tender smile stretched to her solemn expression. "To think things could escalate so fast when they were going so well." She whispered to herself, sitting to a bench beneath one of the irregularly slamming windows. She sighed heavily, grimly recalling that day as if it happened yesterday.

"What exactly happened between you two?" Oswald asked from nowhere. He's tired of being left in the dark on this. "You guys have been acting strangely lately, and I'm guessing it has to do with why you haven't visited in the past few months!"

"Oh yeah...I guess the air should be cleared." She lowered her head, hugging her knees to her chest. "Remember when I came by because Prescott invited me to the new restaurant in Ventureland?"

"Yeah! Ortensia had a fit because you two looked so cute!" His brow bounced irked. "And I was upset because you booked the last slot for the next two months."

"Right!" She laughed nervously. Oswald tied his ears so tightly it apparently took Ortensia over two hours to untie them. "Well, Prescott and I managed to make our reservation...and then…" She sank into herself, hiding half her face in her knees, "He asked me a question that terrified me."

 **Flashback Five months ago**

 _The Flying Dutchman, as anticipated - possibly even better - was a refurbished pirate ship fished out of the bay turned into a high class restaurant. The pirates who were no longer working for Captain Hook were the proprietors of the restaurant, and had a remarkable sense of work ethic and high standards. A couple of women threw themselves at them, fawning over how handsome they looked in their best dress coats. The chandeliers basking the restaurant in a comforting glow were part of the kraken decor spanning the ceiling. Each tentacle was reshaped and hooked by extravagant light fixtures. The pianist, Pete Pan, played old sea shanty hymns from the stage arranged with three dimensional seaweed, and figures of divers. The music sounded ominous, but it was remarkably soothing to the atmosphere. The tables were crates, draped by tattered cloth. The salty scent was complemented by the fresh sea aroma provided by the scented candles around the room._

" _Wow…" Cecelia glistened._

" _Precisely…" Prescott marveled._

 _The restaurant was packed left to right. The waiters were residents of Ventureland, and they had fun maneuvering between seats. Nevertheless, Prescott and Cecelia both received their meal in a timely manner. A lobster and crab feast with baked potatoes, corn, their choice of drinks. They chose sparkling cider. With a toast to themselves, and surviving The Blot disaster, they proceeded to eat and enjoy their evening. Talking about the first time they met, the adventures they went on, their many arguments, and of course what they've been up to on their own time. Their food would have gone cold if it weren't so delicious. They managed to blow two hours on idle conversation and laughs, and making fun of people who couldn't pay their bill. It was turning into a great night._

 _After they paid their bill, Prescott invited Cecelia to the dock outside. The thinner sea looked amazing at night, and the full moon added a little magic to the night. Prescott lifted her to the main mast, giving each other the perfect view of the harbor. It brought on warm memories of the cliffside on their first date. It was soured by The Blot, but the rest of the day was one they'd never forget. Prescott snuck in a kiss while Cecelia was distracted, laughing at how embarrassed she was. She attacked him with her own kiss, eventually leading into a five minute long moment of passion. They've never appreciated the night more than now. No one batted an eye in their direction._

" _You always seem to cause me trouble." Prescott groaned, leaning to her side. Cecelia's height made it slightly difficult to wrap his arm around her. So she teased him and sat him on her lap._

" _You're on to talk." She caressed the top of his head. "You nearly passed out from all that cider."_

" _Who's the one who stuffed herself on potatoes?"_

" _I like potatoes!"_

" _A bit too much." He poked her stomach._

" _Says the guy shaped like a bowling pin!"_

" _A handsome bowling pin." He wiggled his brow foxily._

 _Cecelia burst into laughter, holding her head. She had to admit, that was adorable. "I swear…" She flushed bright red, "I love you sometimes."_

 _Prescott was taken aback by her confession, then smirked mischievously. He stood on her lap, then snuck another kiss. "I love you too." He whispered. Cecelia's heart felt like it would explode with happiness. "Which is why I wanted to ask you something."_

" _What is it?" She hugged her arms to his waist like he was a plush toy._

" _We've been a couple for...almost seven months now, right?" He shifted his head sideways._

" _Yeah…?" She answered curiously._

" _It's safe to say...we plan to be together for a while, right?"_

" _Of course…" Dread came over her, inching her back, "Unless you don't-"_

" _NO, NO! I don't want to break up!" That's far from it. "I wanted to ask you...that is I was hoping…" The words wouldn't leave his lips, so he shuffled a hand in his pocket. Cecelia breathing momentarily, mind racing to what it could be. He opened his hand to reveal a key. It wasn't what she was expecting at all, but she was still entranced by it. "This key is to the Gag Factory. My mom is...only big enough for Gremlins, but I...I practically live in the Gag Factory. It's…" He stopped his gaze from drifting everywhere and found the courage to lock them with Cecelia, "It's big enough for two people to live in...you know…?"_

" _Prescott…" Her heart was racing, her head going fuzzy._

" _I...I WANT YOU TO LIVE WITH ME!" He blurted. Cecelia was shocked to silence, his words echoing loudly in her head. 'Live with...Prescott?' She...she doesn't know what to say. Or how to feel. She's happy - joyful even. At the same time...she was scared. "Well…"_

" _I don't…" Cecelia found her voice, head lowered with her eyes darting side to side. "I mean I want to...but…"_

" _But?" His voice quaked._

" _But I can't...just leave my grandfather…" She hugged her palms to her elbows, sinking into herself. "I need to talk to him and then-"_

" _I see." Prescott moved away from her, floating off the mast. Cecelia ogled him confusedly, worried about his shaking shoulders and balled fists. "You don't have to say anymore. I HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR!" He shot her a murderous glare, petrifying her. "Why would you want to live with someone like me?! Just say you don't instead of making up excuses!"_

" _Prescott, calm down! I never said-"_

" _You don't have to say anything!" He boomed. Tears started to roll down his cheeks. "Just...just don't say anything!" With that he took off, flying into the night._

" _PRESCOTT! WAIT!"_

 **Flashback end**

"I returned to the Gag Factory that night, and Prescott wouldn't let me in. One thing led to another, and I chose to stay away." For five months she and Prescott kept their distance.

"Why didn't you say yes?" Oswald itched his head.

"I wanted to, but wanted my grandfather's blessing to leave." She explained again. "I couldn't just leave without permission. I told Prescott the same thing when we met up."

"That makes sense." He touched his chin. "Though, if I were in Prescott's position, that would have sounded like a no to me also."

Cecelia growled irritated. "Men are so irrational." Oswald chuckled guiltily. "But, that aside, Prescott and I made up before we came to the caverns. Though I can't say for certain we've bridged the gap we created."

"You guys will! You're too compatible to leave things as they are."

"Thanks, Ozz." She blushed.

"And besides, you two have to kiss and make up soon anyway!" He warned her with a bright grin. "That date you two went on where The Blot ambushed you."

"What about it?"

"That was your first date, wasn't it?" Cecelia lit up like a the flickering lights. Her mind came to a crashing halt under that epiphany. "I remember you both agreeing on that being your anniversary! If you don't make up soon," Oswald turned on his heels, wanting to reach the end of the projector soon, "You won't be able to celebrate properly."

"That's right…" Cecelia muttered, mindlessly following after him. That's what brought on her old memories! It was because of their anniversary. "The anniversary…of our first date..."

 **xxx**

Prescott touched his lip, eyeing the calendar date marked by drawn on flowers. "...Is tomorrow."

Barely did they manage to breach that wall with their exchange earlier, bringing them both within each other's arms, and taking their original places in one another's heart. And only for him to regret his actions to the point of curling into a permanent fetal position. Prescott would find himself going into his drawer to admire her spellbook, only to cringe that he gave it back to Cecelia. ' _I should be able to borrow magic from other items._ ' In other words, she's turned her greatest handicap into a minor hinderance. He bit on his lower lip, seething woefully. _You always find a way, don't you?_ Was it a curse, or is he genuinely happy she's compensating? It's difficult to tell these days. She's being dragged all over Wasteland by Mickey and Oswald. He doesn't want her getting hurt. But still...

 _Buzz-buzz-buzz._ Prescott's train of thought derailed. He growled bitterly, planning to strangle whoever was trying to reach him. He opened a drawer in his desk, then propped a brow. The buzzing bounced a radio receiver he didn't recognize. _Buzz-buzz-buzz._ He looked around suspiciously, searching for signs of an intruder, or that someone snuck it in when he wasn't looking. He's had moderate foot traffic today. It's possible one of the others slipped it in. _Buzz-buzz-buzz._ He cautiously picked up the receiver, knitting his brow perturbed. He wasn't expecting a call, but apparently the person reaching out knows someone has it. With nothing else to really lose, he pressed the red button on the side. A light trill began the call.

"Hello?" He released the button, none too enthralled by who might be on the other end.

" _Getting cold feet in the face of your kitten, are we?_ " Prescott felt himself turn fragile and splinter with cracks. Ice of The Mad Doctor's voice snaked into his ear, and then to his veins.

 **To be continued.**


	10. Angels or Devils

**Angels or Devils**

 **Moving on.**

 **xxx**

Perhaps it is a symbol of his age finally catching up to him. With Cecelia distancing herself, Prescott doesn't feel the same vigor or energy as before. Even before he met her, he was always walking through the thickest vat of goo, sinking another inch with each step. As time went on, and they grew closer, and both learned to lower their shields, Prescott felt he could fly circles around Wasteland in spite of all the weight. He was so engrossed in these thought of a folly past that the beeping of a radio he doesn't recall barely bothered him. It wasn't until the cackling voice of The Mad Doctor aired and openly mocked him for losing heart in the face of his...waning love.

Prescott shot to his feet. "How did you get this in here?!" He demanded antsily. He darted for all the locks in the Gag Factory, sealing the doors and windows, and even the coffee pot in his safe.

" _Is that really your question?_ " The Mad Doctor taunted. Prescott gritted his teeth. " _Shouldn't you be asking, how do I know your knees are shaking whenever that cat of yours comes lurking?_ "

Prescott's fingers twitched in a half fist. "You're spying on me? Have you lost your senses?!" He snarled. He searched for a Seer Blot, or one of his many inconspicuous flies on the wall. He's watching him now. He can feel it. "I've been helping you, if you've forgotten! I don't deserve-"

" _I'll decide what you deserve or not, Prescott!_ " The roar startled Prescott, bringing small beads of sweat to his brow. He's never heard him sound so furious. " _And right now, what I think you DESERVE is to have a little magic blow up in your face!_ " Question marks popped around his head. " _I'm curious, how was your tummy when you bold-faced lied to poor, little Cecelia? Did you feel sick? Or was there a certain enjoyment that she was so easily fooled?_ "

"You shut up!" Prescott's voice cracked. How dare he assume...how can he accuse him of...it's just...Oh who was Prescott kidding? He still wants to puke. "And I think someone who miscalculated shouldn't be acting high and mighty!" He quickly countered venomously. "I told you she would come, regardless of her magic! Knowing Wasteland was in danger, she and Mickey would come faster than horses! I told you that your little scheme would bring them at their top speeds!" He paused for a moment, seeing the obscure pieces neatly falling into place. He warily brought the receiver to his mouth, shakily adding, "Unless that was your plan." The Mad Doctor's chuckle confirmed it. He wanted Mickey and Cecelia here. "Tell me. Is it the brush, magic, or both that you seek? Because the second one tore The Blot in half, and you don't even know how to handle turps or tints."

" _The Blot was too weak, arrogant, and stupid to wield such power._ " The Mad Doctor dismissed, propping his feet to his desk. " _I, on the other hand, am more than certain I can wield it._ " He glanced at a thin book on his desk, his smile widening. He folded one hand behind his head, relishing in this winning streak he was on. Everything was falling neatly into place. " _I must thank you, by the way, for the study guide. Although your little ritual was quite impressive._ "

Prescott's fingers tightened to the receiver. A grimness darkened his expression. The trunk in the corner worked his nerves. "I doubt Cecelia will feel the same way." He rumbled.

" _Oh I hope so. We both know how 'irrational' she can become when she's upset. I wonder..._ " The Mad Doctor removed his glove, marveling at a hard set scorch mark, " _She nearly burned me alive. What will she do to you?_ "

"Don't you threaten me! If I go down, you'll go with me too!" He frothed at the mouth. The hammering in his chest inwardly confirms that Prescott believes him. Who knows how Cecelia will react. "Oswald will bury you alive when he learns the truth!"

" _Except, the difference between my relationship and yours, mine is only one sided. His!_ " Oswald trusts The Mad Doctor, is completely devoted to believing in him, and seeks to rekindle their age old friendship. The fool fastened his own puppet strings before The Mad Doctor had to say hello. " _You stand to lose her and everything else you've acquired. But the biggest wound will be losing the girl who you swore to never betray._ " Prescott gasped in dismay. A blushing, smiling Cecelia made his chest hurt. " _The same girl - convinced herself to being a monster - you confessed your love for, and said that you would never do anything to hurt her. Not like how her father, or those children she murdered did._ "

"Enough!" Prescott boomed.

" _Ooh-hoo-hoo! Can you imagine the pieces her heart will be in? How her mind will shatter?_ " Prescott was shivering. Rage and sadness boiling inside of him, begging to explode. Her tear filled eyes plagued him. Her sobs when her true power first came to light, the fear of being chastised and despised coiling to her like a serpent. Cecelia nearly tore herself in half last year. Everything since she was 14 she's kept bottled up. " _Maybe she'll go back into that shell she kept the world at bay in. Everyone who has approached her will be barred from getting close. She'll wither away._ "

"Alright! Alright! You win!" Prescott planted his hand to the desk, lowering his head in defeat. He can't...he can't stand it. Cecelia learning the truth...it would destroy her instantly. Nevermind what will happen to him. _I have to make this right!_ The only way to truly make this right...is the one method that will ruin everything. He needs to think, he needs time. "What do you want me to do next?" He acquiesced.

The Mad Doctor knew he'd see it his way. He cares too much for that feisty feline of his. " _Our friends will be meeting me in the Gulch. Continue with our project in Ventureland._ " Incidentally, those schematics are beneath the ones he lost interest in. " _I will contact you later._ " The receiver went dead.

Prescott put the receiver back inside his drawer. "Cecelia…" He moaned, sinking into his chair. He buried his head in his arms. Tears fell down his cheeks. He bit on his lip, trying his hardest to not scream out in a rage. "You should have just stayed home!" Why did he have to love someone so selfless? Why was he cursed to love someone so...pure?

 **xxx**

The Rainbow Caverns substation was up and running again. However, from what Gus was able to determine, the substation only powering the projectors within the caverns. The power wasn't distributing to the rest across Wasteland. It could simply be a matter of waiting for the substations full power to regenerate. Or, perhaps, there is more to the projector issue than meets the eye. Nevertheless, Small Pete will undoubtedly continue working on the substation until he's satisfied all is well. If he finds any issues, he'll bring them to Oswald. At least he hopes he will. The Pete's aren't exactly known for their diligence when THEIR OWN PERSON is not in the mess. Unfortunately, neither Gus nor the others have the luxury of waiting around and babysitting Small Pete to see what he finds. The Mad Doctor urgently contacted Oswald, begging him to come to his lab in the Gulch. Once they tend to him, they'll come back to check on the substation. It might be a quick trip if Cecelia hasn't cooled down by the time they arrive.

To say Cecelia was sour about The Mad Doctor's plea for help would be an insulting understatement. She hasn't been shy about display her absolute hatred for The Doctor, and he unwillingness to do a single thing that will put her within 1,000 feet of him. Going to his rescue in the Gulch has marshalled a side of her they are only acquainted with. She's in a downward spiral. Her comment before deciding to leap into the Angel Side Projector rankled Oswald. ' _I've had enough devils in my life. Maybe the angels will clarify who it is I'm helping this time around._ ' She came to help the people of Wasteland, not race to the rescue of the man who tried to destroy it and her friends. This whole matter has infuriated her. Rightfully so, but still Oswald wishes she'd be a bit more open hearted. Which is why he asked Gus and Mickey to take the devil side, while he travels with Cecelia on the angel side.

"How do you think things are going up there?" Mickey asked, wiping large drops of sweat on his arm. The shifting maze atop a lava pool were going to cook him alive.

"I shudder to think." Although, with the intense heat, Gus might melt before shivering.

The Devil Side of Rainbow Caverns - appropriately named. The heat baking into the bedrock aside, the exit nesting the projector was carved into the face of a demon. The razor sharp carved teeth chilled the pair to the bone. It's not too far fetched to think the cave might devour them. Stranger things have happened. And yet, none of that is more terrifying than what's going through Cecelia's head now. Perhaps it is a good thing most o her magic is gone. She'd likely bring the cave down.

 **xxx**

Crossing the bridge of the Angel Side terrified every fiber of Oswald's Bunny being. Cecelia was in such a fit that he stomping shook the thing like a raft on a rapid. She almost catapulted him into the air. Falling into the bottomless abyss fading below them wasn't on his list of thrills. He may come close to his nightmare coming true. The massive sword held by the rock carved angel on the opposite side was being guarded by Sweepers. The sword is able to act as a bridge between the gaping chasm, and was completely thinned out by them.

"As if we don't have enough problems!" Cecelia growled. The Sweepers taunted them fro mthe opposite legde, smacking their butts and spitting raspberries. Veins in her head clenched. "Maybe Mickey should have come this way." She grumbled regrettably. They could really use his brush right about now.

"Agreed…" Oswald rubbed the back of his head. This is a problem. Much of the angel side is thinned out because of the Sweepers. This is a problem. From where he was, he was able to see clearly over to the devil side. Mickey and Gus were already halfway through the devil side. Changing the position of the thin sheets of lava blocking their way was proving to be child's play for them. "Well, it's too late to turn back now." He decided. He groaned miserably, directing Cecelia's attention to the stone pillars. "We'll have to play dare devil hopscotch if we want to get over there."

"Then lets do it." She pushed her way past him. Cecelia actually willed herself to calm down for a couple of seconds to admire the cavern's majesty. The gallons of paint spilling into separate falls, disappearing within the never ending abyss below. Cracks in the darkened wall across from them were bleeding with glowing pant. The statues of the fairy angels standing guard for their goddess that's carved into the cavern were stunning. Her contempt for why she was passing through this gorgeous cavern stomped out her fascination as her toes touched the edge of the ledge. "The sooner we reach the Gulch, the sooner I won't have be near that doctor friend of yours!"

"R-Right…" Oswald timidly meandered after her. He jumped after her to the first pillar, arriving to another fountain of invisible ink. The ink was in full flow, perpetually filling its well without spilling over. The ink would serve nicely in crossing the sword if it were filled in. There are switches on both sides of if for easy passage. The caverns may not have been built by Oswald, but that didn't stop Blotlings from finding a way inside to try and destroy it. They made it a game to terrorize customers, and chase them away from the attraction. If they have a chance, Mickey will need to be brought back here in order to help spruce it up. "Hey! Look!" Oswald went on the defensive.

Three Sweepers were guarding the the next pillar, clinging to the fairy statue as if it were theirs. Their buckets were dripping from the top, the thinner eating at the solid non-toon stone. Oswald drew his remote, ready for a fight. Cecelia glared daggers at them, touching a hand to her spellbook. _Pests!_ She sucked heatedly on her teeth. "OUT OF THE WAY!" Cecelia's sweep of the hand generated a vicious pulse, throwing the Sweepers off and sending them plummeting into nothingness. Oswald gaped dumbstruck, chuckling nervously at how serious she's become. "I am not in the mood for them!" She declared, and then skipped to the next pillars.

Oswald cleared his throat, bringing his head back into the game, and jumped the gap. He jumped too soon. His foot slipped on the ledge. He flailed his arms, his body falling back. Cecelia grasped at a crystallized rock and caught his hand by the wrist. Oswald planted his foot and pulled himself to safety, pounded a hand on his buzzing chest. "Thanks!" He breathed. She gave him a half smile, then grudgingly continued for the exit. "Hey, are you going to be alright?"

"To be honest, Oswald, that remains to be seen." She sighed heavily. The next few pillars rose higher and higher. Oswald and Cecelia got into a running start and jumped, grabbing hold of the ledge. They dug in their feet, pulling themselves to the surface. "Did Mickey and I really almost get killed for you guys just so you can bring Wasteland's most dangerous terrorist back into your graces?"

"Look," He moaned, helping her to her feet, "I understand more than anyone why you despise him. But take a breath and think how this is for me." He placed a hand to his chest. "The Doc was my friend, he helped build the animatrons of Mickey's friends, and was integral in Wasteland's development." He gestured to the caverns, and the wondrous land above them. Then his arms sank dreadfully, "He betrayed me, my friends, and what's more tried to kill us all twice." He tensely shook his head, clenching a fist, "I didn't want to trust him, but Wasteland is his home too. If it goes, he's stuck here with us when it does."

"I guess that makes sense…" Cecelia guiltily rubbed her arm, mentally berating herself for how selfish she must be sounding. "I'm sorry, Oswald. I really am." She groaned.

"I know." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "That's why I'm asking you to trust me." She gave him a weak smile, recalling she promised that she would. He ruffled her hair and jumped for the next pillar. _That aside..._ He said to himself, hiding his bothered expression, _There's still the matter of that._ When he turned to help her climb up his eyes fell on her spellbook. _Prescott's had the book the whole time. He never let anyone else use it, he said._ Oswald doesn't want to shift blame where there doesn't seem to be any, but a place inside his soul is bothered by the evidence. Prescott's had her book the whole time...Cecelia's magic was pried out of her... _would he-_

"WATCH OUT, OSWALD!"

Three globs of thinner were thrown at him.

 **xxx**

Mickey and Gus, hanging on by threads sustained by heavy breaths, squared defiantly to the behemoth of a Blotworx barring their path. The heat of the Devil side was becoming unbearable. The fumes from the bubbling magma - which was parted from their feet by thick cuts of metal and brass - was cooking their lungs, coiling their esophaguses shut. The sweat beading down their brows was stinging their baking skin and eyes. Their mouths were running dry, as was Mickey's paint and thinner. The maze of the Devil's side was torturous enough as it is. Knocking the past three Blotworx into the magma tormented their tender muscles. Through sheer will, and thinking very cool thoughts, they've managed to make it to the finish line, only to be ambushed by one more Blotworx - CORRECTION! A second just appeared from the blue, smashing its gorilla like arms threateningly. Mickey and Gus were not deterred by the overwhelming odds. They've faced worse.

A shrill pop echoed throughout the cavern, crackling volts blossoming from the Angel's side. Mickey, Gus, and the two Blotworx snapped their heads to the illuminating show. Gus tapped Mickey, redirecting him to the hypnotized machines. They smirked and nodded. Mickey sprayed paint at their feet. Gus drew two wrenches, twirling them like a wild western sheriff. The wrenches were let loose, beating the heated air and rebounding off the Blotworx heads. Their bodies fell back, feet scrambling on the wet paint. Mickey darted up the pair, planting a foot to each one's head and kicking off. The Blotworx splashed into the magma, the metals and blotlings inside melting within seconds.

"Ha! No sweat!" Mickey twisted at Gus's ill conceived pun. "My apologies." He cirnged. He glanced back where the other fireworks took place. It seemed to quiet down, but the nerves in Gus were rankled. "I was wondering when things would heat up on their side." He winked, not apologizing for that one.

"At least we know they're doing okay." Mickey laughed, climbing up to the projector in the cave. "Let's beat them to the other side before more company arrives." Gus didn't need to be told twice. He dove into the projector, soon followed by Mickey.

 **xxx**

Oswald slammed a fist to his remote. A dome surrounded them, the weaving volts burning the globs to hardened bricks. Sweepers ambushed them on the edge, relentlessly tossing bucket after buckets of thinner. Piles of smoking bricks piled around the dome. "Any time you wanna jump in!"

"I thought you'd never ask." Cecelia smirked, clutching at her book. Pulsating waves radiated from her balled fist. She lifted a curled palm, the bricks levitated inches off the ground. "Ready...aim...FIRE!" A thrust of her palm sent the bricks in volleys, shrieking projectiles tearing the Sweepers to tatters. They squealed in agony, dropping their buckets. Oswald dropped the dome.

Sending his ears into overdrive as he launched into the air. The Sweepers turned up to him aghast, losing the pieces they desperately tried to pick up. Oswald pushed the button. Volts struck at their feet, sending the Sweepers plummeting over the edge and into the abyss. Cecelia traced a hand to her shoes, coating them in a yellow glaze. She stamped and pushed off into the air, flipping onto the decimated sword beside Oswald. The pair nodded approvingly, knowing there was no reason to fret. Then they shot glares to the Sweepers cowering inside the cave beneath the carved angel. Oswald and Cecelia jerked aggressively. The Sweeper threw their buckets up and screamed, jumping into the abyss themselves.

"That was easy." Cecelia teased.

"Never dreamed they'd show themselves out." Oswald chuckled. And they were even kind enough to leave the projector on for them. "We should follow their lead this once. Mickey and Gus must have beaten us to the Gulch by now."

"Let's not keep them waiting then." The two jumped in, leaving the caverns behind them. Maybe they'll bring Mickey back so he can paint it in and give Adele a good photo for her scrapbook.

 **xxx**

Mickey and Gus lost interest in waiting for Oswald and Cecelia to catch up. Amazing that it was taking them so long considering they were roughly nearing the end of Angel's Cavern. Maybe they ran into more blotlings before they could make the jump. Incidentally, Gus brought along a deck of playing cards for just an occasion and challenged Mickey to a friendly game of poker. A sucker's game. Gus's pokerface was impeccable. Were it that money or property were involved, Mickey would have lost everything - including his ears - within the past five hands. Gus...he's secretly a gambling fiend. A master with cards. At least the ridge they idled on had a nice view.

"SORRY! SORRY!" Oswald wailed, rolling out of the projector onto his stomach. Gus collected the card, rather peeved their mission fell behind waiting on them. Mickey was irritated that their wait made him lose the shirt off his back. "We...we made a wrong turn in the projector! Then there were bats and-" Cecelia was launched out, landing on Oswald's back, "OOF...cats…" He wheezed.

"Sorry, Oswald." She winced, climbing off. She helped him up, hovering her hands to keep him balanced. He shook off the dazing trauma, assuring her he was fine. "Hope you guys weren't waiting too long." It's best to not mention what happened during the wait. Mickey's pride can't take a reenactment. Cecelia shook her head, turning to gaze out to the gulch. "WHOA!" Her jaw dropped. She was expecting a empty hole in the ground, a few dying plants, and maybe or maybe not a river flowing through. Not...this…

Towering walls embedded with smooth, rot bleeding, grooves encompassed the land in what can only be described as a bowl. The afternoon sun flooding the chasm in its warming brilliance, reflecting off the metallic and plastic face cut outs of Big Bad Wolf and a weasel. Disney Gulsh was something out of an old Western Film. Rustic and charming as the settings portrayed also. The rather massive bones of great animals decorated the gulch, giving it that _survival of the fittest_ appeal. The inn built atop the gulch's walls had light beaming from the aged windows. It boggled the minds if it was for effect or if someone actually lived in there. The city hall shaped building on the other side was built into the dugout walls, aiding in ensuring that portion didn't collapse due to decay. Gaps in the chasm from top to bottom were boarded up. No reason to ask why other than looking out at the seemingly bottomless drop. The blood, sweat, and tears gone into building this marvel of an area resonated off the constructs. A river of pure blue paint flowed in from a gap in the far left wall, pooling it to the base of a three story tall water tower. The heat isn't as oppressive as The Devil side of Rainbow Caverns, but the glamorous effect gave off the essence of a drought for the river. Dried cracks in the starved, barren rock were abundant. The water leaking from the towers dried up instantly in a hiss. Only amplifying the steam geysers whistling from mounting pressure.

"And Wasteland continues to impress…" Cecelia breathed. "What is this place?"

"This here is the one and only Disney Gulch!" Gus grandly announced, gesturing to the splendor. "After Mickey first defeated The Bot, the thinner seas went away and left all this junk behind." _Junk?!_ Mickey and Cecelia gasped. Now that they take a good look, beneath the grandstanding, the materials did appear worn out. Quick refurbish work were patches on the wood and metals keeping the building standing. The rest was sort off tossed into a particular spot in a out of sight out of mind way. Truthfully, the Gulch was an unkempt mess of trash turned into an attraction. Much like the rest of Wasteland. Which would mean, down the road, it will be another pillar capping Oswald's already heavy crown. It will be great.

"Where does it all come from?" Mickey kicked at an old TV sitting on the ridge edge. The thing still worked. It was even airing an old cartoon about Donald.

"You see it falling out of the sky every now and then." Oswald elucidated. He noted an object from the crook of his eye and pulled Cecelia aside. She yelped into his arms at the boombox crashing where she stood. "Some of it we can use, but most just sits here forgotten." An ironic choice given he himself is a forgotten one.

"Okay, but…" Mickey tilted his head confusedly, meandering to the edge. He put his hand to his forehead like a visor, pondering if his heat exhaustion was playing tricks on him. "What's...that?" The other arched brows at what he was referring to. Neither knew what to make of it.

A Spatter was balancing for his life on an out of control sphere rolling about the gulch. Thick cakes of rock were hardened to the liquid glass. A strange, atom like energy circled itself in the center. The Spatter was screaming - well gargling - for help from his fellow blotlings. By pure dumb luck he scrambled the running orb past obstacles, jumping over huge divots in the ground. He almost landed in the river were it not for a geyser blowing him back to land. A Dropwing completely ignored him, instead spitting thinner to a sand crab in rage. The crab came too close, mind you, and Dropwings are sticklers about their bubble. Other Spatters dove for their lives, cowering with hands over their awkwardly shaped heads. One of them laughed at their in peril cohort, splitting his sides. Literally. He inked himself into a very deep crack. The rolling Spatter inadvertently got his revenge running over a landed Dropwing, and came to a relieving halt atop a hole. Just as the Spatter counted his blessing, hisses of air and guttural rumbling quaked his nerves. The sphere was shaking violently. Gusts of heat brushed his leaking skin. The Spatter watched in horror. He was on top of a GEYSER. The steam built to its zenith and exploded from the narrow hole. Spatter and sphere shot a mile into the air, landing on a massive unstable rock atop a spire. The Spatter, terrified of the devastating drop, started running like mad. The unbalanced boulder swayed and spun in all directions, kept aloft by the Spatter's desperate plight to not fall to his doom.

"That's unfortunate." Cecelia snickered.

 _Tweet-tweet!_ Oswald's remote sounded, the red bauble on the antenna glowing with radio waves. The others gathered around him as he answered the call. No big surprise as to who was on the other end. " _ **Oswald! Mickey! Come to my lab, you can use the train to get here!**_ " Cecelia's insides became acid at his voice. She used the mentioning of the train to distract herself from electrocuting him through the radio. She doesn't need all her magic. All it would take is a word...and a breath. Ble and white tendrils snaked her teeth on her heated breath. He and every single bolt and gear of his mechanical parts would be reduced to ash. " _ **But remember that the train won't run without the battery spheres. PLEASE HURRY!**_ " Cecelia inquiring gaze moved from the stationed train to the sphere the Spatter was riding on.

"Sounds like things are getting bad!" Oswald panicked. Cecelia bit her tongue. _They've been bad from the start._ "We have to reach the Doc and fast!" He pleaded.

"He mentioned battery spheres for the train." Gus stated. "He must mean that object the Spatter is riding."

"I think it's gonna take more than one." Mickey warned, bringing attention to the train. On the caboose was bubble meant for one of the spheres to act as the main power boost for the train. Connected were a couple a caged cars. "The train might need two of them."

"The second one has to be around here somewhere." Gus assured them. Something that big doesn't just disappear.

They were about to begin their search when Cecelia's pin rang. She didn't have to ponder who was reaching out to her. Odd timing for Prescott to make a social call. "Prescott? Is something wrong?"

" _No! Not at all!_ " His nervous laughter raised red flags in her head. He hasn't sounded this nervous since their second date. _"I was just calling to see...um...are you…"_ He grunted loathingly fumbling over his own words. He's really developed a cottonmouth. _"How-how did the book work out?"_ A spark light in Oswald's spine. His eyes locked onto Cecelia's hip. To her book.

"Great! The siphon worked!" She pat the book proudly. "It's not as strong as my own magic, but I can make it work." She winked to her friends. They can testify to that.

" _I know you can...it's one of your strengths after all."_ He hummed. She blushed at his flattery. Not all were entranced by Prescott's revelry. Oswald hummed perturbed under his breath, stroking his chin suspiciously. _The book..._ Prescott had Cecelia's book the whole time. And who was he to deny it to her should she come asking? _"Are you alright, Cecelia?"_

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?" She replied, caught off guard by his soft tone.

" _It's just…"_ He trailed off, panting with a loss of words, _"I've been thinking about it for a while and...having to cooperate with The Doctor has to be hard for you. AND MICKEY!"_ He recovered, not wanting to sound insensitive to either one's position. _"After what happened…"_ Mickey and Cecelia lowered their heads, neither daring to glance at an equally somber Oswald. _"Cecelia, are you alright with this?"_

"Not in the least. But I trust Oswald, so I'm going along with it." That was the solid truth. She smiled tenderly to Oswald, hoping he believed her.

" _What if...what if you learn this whole thing has been an act?"_ Her veins tightened. Her blood began to oil. _"That he...and a partner…"_ He immediately groaned, muttering under his breath. _A partner?_ Gus caught. _Where did that come from?_ Prescott sighed dismally, cursing his slipping tongue. _"What if you learn he and another are doing nothing besides playing a horrible trick?"_

"Then there won't be a trace of The Mad Doctor or his partner." She stated unwaveringly. The foreboding drone in her tone sent chills down Mickey and Gus's spines. On this everyone can heed her word for word. "I'll finish what I started in the Mansion's Attic." Where The Mad Doctor and The Blot nearly met a most painful end under the fiery tendrils of Cecelia's uncapped fury. Their endeavor to use their Ghoul Blotlings, implanted with a wicked device of The Mad Doctor's, and feed the deeply rooted nightmares of both Cecelia and Mickey to the energizing Blot. The nightmares which plague them each and every night. Coils they seek to escape that will squeeze the minds dry, and leave a drooling shell in its wake. "And let me assure you, Prescott…" Her crimson orbs narrowed like a Sniper's scope to the train, The Doctor awaiting like a slaughter prepared lamb on the other side, "I won't need all my magic to make it happen." From Prescott to the trio behind her, throats tension as large dry lumps were swallowed, exploding like nuclear bombs in their stomachs. She erased her scary expression, exhaling to calm her nerves. "I need to go. I'll see you when we're done here."

" _Ye-yes...I'll see you too."_ He stammered. Cecelia's feline hearing alerted her to his skipping heartbeat. She was terrifying him. She was terrifying herself. The Mad Doctor has this way of drawing out her demons. " _Cecelia._ " Prescott caught her before she ended the call. " _Please, no matter what, don't lose yourself._ "

She smiled tenderly, blowing him a kiss. "I won't, love. Not this time." She promised. Prescott believed her with all his heart, then cut the call.

 **xxx**

Prescott tossed the pin to the ground. The shrill ringings reverberating on his ears, their sepulchral tone tearing his soul to tattered ribbons. He animally ground his teeth, clawing at his skull with bone crushing disdain. The loathing he felt filled his veins with acid, eating away at him to the marrow. His forehead pressed to the hard metal desk, the cold sheet adding to the frigid block encasing him, starting at his spine. "Don't lose yourself...Cecelia! Please…" Tears spilled down his cheeks. If he had a heart it would be tearing to pieces. "No matter what...don't lose yourself." He begged.

 **xxx**

"You and Prescott seemed to be getting along swimmingly again." Gus hugged congratulatory hands to her shoulders. He hasn't seen that flush in her cheeks for a while. "The way you two have been at odds...it reminded me of when you first met. You were at each other's throats then." Worse than now.

"Yeah...we were." She replied hoarsely, eyes glossing dreamily.

"Ugh! I can't take anymore!" Oswald lifted her off her feet by the collar, shaking her violently. "What the Heck happened between you two?!" He cried. He can't take the suspense anymore.

Cecelia was gaping fearfully. Oswald been dying slowly from this mystery. Now that she thinks about it, she's been very vague. Then again, she has to talk about it in order to be vague or otherwise. "I guess it is time to explain." She laughed nervously. The story of their fall out was ridiculously long, and she doesn't know Prescott's half in it's whole. She told of how the two prepared a reservation months in advance to the new restaurant in Ventureland, and how they nearly ran late because she was wrapped up in work she's been doing for Yensid. The night was great, they laughed and told old stories, relived their very first date The Blot interrupted...and then the night soured. Like grapes left in the sun. Prescott wanted Cecelia to come live with him, she hesitated and said she needed to run it by Yensid first. Prescott accused her of not truly loving him or wanting to be with him. Words not meant to be uttered rang on the air, stabbing both through and through. Before they could regret their words, they both went their separate ways. "Five months later...after such a dank and murky cloud festered...we cleared the air. There's still traces of that cloud, but we're chasing it away bits at a time."

"Whoa…" Oswald's shoulders sank. Gus and Mickey bit anxiously on their cheeks, fiddling with their fingers. They're sorry they asked, but are glad she told them. It explains so much. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressed."

"Don't be. I'm sure Prescott's had you worried. He's been grumpier than usually I'm guessing." She giggled. Oswald ands Gus groaned hesitantly. Gus pretended to read a newspaper he pulled from nowhere, and Oswald rubbed his tension neck. "Yeah. Nail on the head. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Gus reassured her. "That was a huge decision, and you two notorious blow things out of proportion." There's no denying that one. "Now let's get to work. Oswald, you and Cecelia see if you can't get our friend down." He gestured to the Spatter practicing his circus act on the boulder above. "Mickey and I will scour for another sphere. Let's all meet at the train."

"RIGHT!" Everyone shouted, then went their separate ways, jumping off the ridge into the gulch.

The exception of the first sphere atop the swaying boulder, Mickey and Gus didn't know where to start looking for a second sphere. They aren't exactly on the small side. Not too many places in such an enclosed space to hide them away. Nevertheless, the pair searched the saloon beneath city hall. The doors were boarded shut and tight. The windows too. None of it was made of toon, so that eliminated that place. A first blush around the gulch didn't reveal much of anything. The exception of a rickety water tower made out of toon, there's not much toon for Mickey to erase or fill in order to find these huge batteries. The Mad Doctor invented these spheres for a specific purpose, but he made them able to be cleverly hidden. Obviously he didn't want anyone to be able to get their hands on them. It'd be nice if he lent them a bone and told them where he hid the spheres. Especially since he's so dire for their help.

"MICKEY! UP HERE!" Gus waved from the platform above. Mickey climbed one of the support columns, inching onto the second floor. Gus was at the window, jabbing a finger to the glass. Mickey pressed his nose to the glass. Lo and behold, basking in sunlight with no real source, was one of the spheres. "That was certainly easy." Gus baulked. Unbeknownst to the snickering Gremlin, Spatters were lining the wall right beneath the window, gargling animatedly at how naive Gus and Mickey were.

Mickey moved for the down pane doors and pushed. The doors didn't budge. He dug in his feet, shoving a shoulder into the doors with all his strength. Their might as well have been a brick wall behind those doors. Nothing Mickey did made them flinch. Gus attempted to lend a hand, only to be met with the same result. "Why won't these doors open?!" He fumed.

"That might be the problem." Gus traced a finger to the transparent toon outlining the saloon. "Many establishments throughout Wasteland, should the toon be thinned, seal themselves as a measure of defense." A very effective measure if Mickey says so himself. He doesn't think even a bulldozer, or Big Bad, could blow through this door. "Paint it all in and the door should open."

"Already on it." Mickey twirled the brush, then gave the saloon a delicious coat of mahogany. Although, the place could you a heck of a remodel and professional paint job. It was falling apart at the nails from the inside out. Meanwhile, the Spatters were in fits of giggles at how easy this is going to be. Mickey started on the left side. Plaques and billboards stamped to the sides were pouring crippling weight onto the support beams. As Mickey painted in the waning supports, Gus worked his Gremlin engineering magic and rebuilt the signage. He fortified the pegs at the bases of the supports, refurbishing the framework. "Almost done…" Mickey extended his tongue, tracing the paint stream over the threshold and finishing up the right side of the saloon. As Gus predicted, the window pane doors parted open. As if it was waiting for them, the missing battery sphere was nesting in a guardian pool in the middle of the room. The two bumped knuckles, feeling like they've accomplished a lot. "Easy!" He cheered. Too easy.

When they entered, however, Spatters closed the door behind them. "I knew it was too easy!" Gus hissed. Mickey folded his arms, growling under his breath. The Spatters tied a chain and pad locked it tight, cackling victoriously. Their jet black knuckles were cracked, arms winding up for a scrap. The destroyer of their exalted master was at their mercy. They would make him pay, and everyone he loves. "I don't think they intend to let us leave here without breaking a sweat or two."

Mickey raised his brush like a sword, chuckling sinisterly. "Oh, this won't be a sweat in the least." Gus couldn't agree more and spun his wrenches, chuckling darkly.

 **xxx**

Classic females shrieks, the sounds of a man falling, and the discernible cries of a cat howled as a full bar brawl raged the saloon's second level. Oswald and Cecelia, including the Spatter on the boulder, hit pause in order to ogle in confusion to what was happening in the saloon. Furniture they didn't even know was in there was flying out of the windows. Including a kitchen sink that hit a Dropwing and buried him in a steam vent. The violent pressure built in a matter of seconds and sent the Dropwing and sink hurtling into the sky and who knows where beyond the walls. Oswald and Cecelia were scared to think what was going on up there. They locked their eyes on the Spatter, formulating a plan. "Ready?" Oswald prepped his remote.

"Ready!" Cecelia lifted her hands, a brown glaze shaping to them like a glove. Oswald darted a stream, striking the Spatter square in the chest and sending splatting to the ground. A most cringing way to go. The sphere inevitably tumbled off, bouncing its way into the guardian pool river. The boulder above lost the miraculous balance its maintained thus far, plummeting for the cat and rabbit. " _SOLUM!_ " She thrusted her palms. The air diverting from the falling rock condensed viciously, peeling the boulder from the inside out until nothing but dust plummeted. Oswald opened an umbrella, he and Cecelia smiling as the dust was repelled. "That was fun." She giggled.

"No kidding!" Oswald went and retrieved the sphere, rolling it for the train. "And it couldn't have been any easier." He should really watch what he say.

"Let's hope all that noise in the saloon is a sign Mickey and Gus are having a smooth ride too." Cecelia helped Oswald pushed the sphere into a chute. The shute dropped into a tunnel, and the sphere reappeared inside the spherical glass casing on the caboose. Now they just need Mickey and Gus. Cecelia decided to seat herself beside the train, taking a break to admire her book. She hasn't really had much time to inspect it since getting it back from Prescott. Gazing upon it, it feels like a hundred years went by since she's last held it. Before Wasteland, this book was on her only escape. Her only means of forgetting, or numbing the pain she's endured. She's already thanked Prescott before, but she'll need to do so again - and properly - when they are finished.

Cecelia couldn't stop her hands from brushing across the immaculate cover, the feel of the well kept leather at her fingertips. When Yensid entrusted her with her own spellbook, she hasn't forgotten how happy she was. A gift to show he believed in her skills and was bequeathing to her the responsibility and privilege of matriculating in the realm of magic. Opening those bindings, the aroma fluttering off the flipping pages was intoxicating. The hours of study she's put into learning and memorizing the contents, the worn indentations from her pen pressing ruthlessly until the parchment tore to add spells she invented. Her favorite part of the book, however, wasn't the spells or the work that's been poured into maintaining it. It's the memories within it. The photos of her broken family in their happier times, her friends from the human realm, her newly added photos of those in Wasteland. This little books contains within it magic greater than anything she, The Blot, Yensid, or Sorcerers before them have come to possess. The love and cherished memories imbued to this book are by far the most powerful of magic she'll ever come to hold. And for Prescott to have taken such great care of it… "Huh?"

"What's wrong?" Oswald leaned in.

"There's a page missing?" She showed him the frayed edges. Oswald gaped shocked. "It looks like someone tore it out!" She growled.

"Are you sure it wasn't an accident?!" He didn't want to jump to conclusions. There's too much happening already.

"I'm sure of it!" She jabbed a finger to that page. "The page missing holds the ritual used to rob me of my magic as well as the counter spell to reverse it!" With the exception of the magic being able to return to the host after an allotted time, a second method an be used for expedience and convenience. A counter ritual to free the stolen art from where it is bound, regardless of whatever barriers are in place, and bringing it back full force into its host. "It's just as I feared! Someone must have gotten ahold of it, used the ritual, and then - knowing I'd come - ensured I couldn't get it back until they're done!"

"But...Prescott had the book the whole time, right?" Oswald cringed at her appalled leer. He raised his hands, assuring her he meant no harm. "Listen! It's just that this has been bothering me for a while!" He's pleading for her to lend him an ear for a while. "Prescott's had your spellbook the whole time?" He quizzed.

"Yes..." She answered with a cautiously raised brow.

"And...and no one else has touched it." He stressed. The missing pages notwithstanding. And Oswald or Cecelia don't want to believe Prescott was careless with it. He's meticulous with items of such importance.

"It doesn't appear so. And Prescott swore to me he never let anyone-" There was a snap in the back of her mind. _Hold on._ She glared at him with disbelief. Oswald's lips ran dry, guilt permeating to his paling complexion. She scoffed in dry laughter, putting her thumb and index finger together to pinch at the underlying topic. "Wait-wait-WAIT! Let me see if I have this straight!" She spat venomously. She rose to her feet, dusting off the dirt - and what reservations were warning her to mind what falls from her fiery lips - to meet him eyes to eye. Oswald inched back, kindling under her swelling rage. "I accuse the Doc of being the thief, so you go after Prescott in retaliation!"

"What?! NO-NO! Why would you think that?" He wheezed. He'd never call Prescott a crook. He's a grouch and a cynic, but he'd never hurt anyone. Least of all Cecelia. "I'm only making an observation, Cecelia! I'm not accusing anybody!"

"Add this to your observation! Prescott has no reason to hurt me!" She slapped a hand to her tearing chest. As Oswald previously stated, he knows Prescott wouldn't attack Cecelia like this. Not for any reason. _Unless..._ Doubts hued his lowering gaze. Prescott's known to do the ridiculous in a fit of irrational, unbridled rage. Breaking Mickey's obnoxiously ringing phone, his fury at the gears to the projectors being broken, and not to mention there's those pumps he overcharged to spite Jamface. _Cecelia leaving..._ Oswald felt chills on his skin. _Would Prescott do this because...because of what happened._ "Oh...no. I don't believe this!" Cecelia pressed fingers to her forehead. It's written all over his face. "We hit a rough patch! Everyone relationship has one! He wouldn't steal my magic to lure me here! Or for anything else!" She shoved the book in his face. "Not only is Prescott not capable of using magic, he knows how much this book means to me and would NEVER rip a single page out!"

"Cecelia-"

She latched a hand to his mouth, boring slit crimson orbs into his trembling eyes. "End this conversation before you say anything else REALLY stupid!" She warned, her fangs showing. She tore her hand away, nearly throwing him off his feet. Oswald touched his chin, fearing her hand was branded to him. It was faint, but he saw the transparent fumes seeping from every pore on her body. Were it she was at full strength the whole gulch would be quaking. _I didn't mean..._

"WE GOT IT!" Mickey cheered. Oswald and Cecelia twisted around, all seriousness wiped away. Gus and Mickey were in shambles. Large bandaids on various places of their bodies, scratches and bruises everywhere, and the cuchtes Gus was using for effect. On the bright side, the sphere they pushed into the chute didn't have a scratch on it. But still, Cecelia has work to do.

The sphere was moved into one of the other cars, securing in place by small prongs. "That ought to do it." Gus dusted his palms.

"Is the train ready?" Oswald mumbled.

"Ready and waiting!" He and Mickey were about to board, then they noticed the atmosphere around Oswald and Cecelia was rather...murky. "Are the two of you alright?"

"That remains to be seen. But one thing is certain," Cecelia huffed, storming onto the train, "The trust within this group grows thinner every second." Oswald flinched at the bite, sluggishly sitting himself opposite her on the train. Mickey and Gus shared apprehensive glances, unsure whether to ask or let the matter die. Gus activated the train, sending on its way for the Mad Doctor. Meanwhile, as she stewed in her seat, Cecelia began to ponder what Oswald said. The worst part...the part eating away at Cecelia's doubting heart. In spite that she refuses to bring to the forefront of her mind. _Why IS that page missing...Prescott?_

 **To be continued**

 **Not the greatest. This was seriously the most boring part of the game when I played it. It's numbing to write about.**


	11. Small Victories, Big Results

**Small Victories, Big Results**

 **Moving on. I'll write two chapters since I was gone for so long.**

 **xxx**

The Mad Doctor grasped at his stomach, flailing about in hearty, maniacal laughter. It was too much. He can barely stand it. IT'S ALL TOO EASY! Oswald is quite literally and figuratively - might as well be literally - eating out of the palm of The Mad Doctor's animatronic hand. Yes, yes, everyone else in Wasteland is coming near him with a ten foot pole and extending it when he tries to approach. That's the reaction he anticipated on his initial decision to emerge from his obscurity. What he also anticipated, practically wrote the script for, was Oswald opening his nonexistent heart to him and re-welcoming The Mad Doctor with open arms back into Wasteland Society. And why shouldn't he? After all~ Oswald's learning to _forgive and forget._ "HA-HA-HA! HOO-HOO-HOO!" To think...after what The Mad Doctor has wrought upon Wasteland - The Blot's first arrival and his reincarnation, The Terror Box, stealing hearts - Oswald would so generously agreed to welcome him back, and help him find a way to put an end the quakes tearing the land apart. Oh yes, and the Blotworx monstrosities running amuck. If Oswald only _knew_ where they came from.

It was so delicious. The Mad Doctor was sure he was developing his tenth cavity. Not only is Oswald on board fully, he's roped his closest allies into the mix. Just as it was intended. Naturally with The Mad Doctor's reappearance someone from Wasteland would call for Mickey, and then he would send for Cecelia. Both are such goodie-goodies they'd never let something like Cecelia's magic being stolen stop them. _Their friends were in danger. They have to save them._ "The morality of heroes is enough to make me vomit. If I had an actual stomach."

The Mad Doctor pressed a red button on his control panel. Dozens upon dozens of monitors with images stretching from the pits of Ventureland to the highest peak of the collapsing Mickeyjunk Mountain blanketed a wall. A squirrel wasn't able to break wind without The Mad Doctor seeing it. He went to great lengths to program the cameras to cut whenever woodland creatures invaded his shots. Their gastrol habits are not remotely on his list of concerns. Right now he needed to ensure that all was going according to plan. The monitors for OsTown were coming in nice and clear. Bringing a smile to his face was Goofy looking after the Gag Factory. He slyly trailed his gaze to Ventureland, spying his favorite purple gremlin bribing Pete Pan to let him enter the construction site. The little gremlin doesn't want his precious kitten to know what he's been up to. He won't fail The Doctor. Speaking of the kitten, she and her little friends were boarding the train to come to his lab. He should get ready. _He desperately needs their help. Why...if they come and don't see him...they might fear THE WORST._

"The worst has yet to come, Little Heroes." He grasped at a handful of thread off to the side. Marionette dolls dressed as jesters of Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia dangled before him. Poetic really. That's exactly what they've become the moment Mickey answered Gus and Ortensia's distress call, and when Cecelia kindled under her desire to aid those who saved her from herself. Oswald the ribbon binding them together. And like all binding ties, like all things really, that strap will wither and weaken and eventually snap. Cecelia is already drifting from Oswald, put off by his strong wish to help The Doctor. Another push and she will abandon him. Then Mickey will drift away, and Gus, then Ortensia, and Oswald will be alone. Like these little dolls, this trio of heroes will continue to move as he wishes. And once he is finished with them, he will toss them to the fire where they will turn to ash before his eyes.

The Mad Doctor twirled the dolls by their strings, sending them hurtling into a pit, plunging deep into the lava pool. A blaze devoured them, and soon they were swallowed. Turned to bricks that will never surface. "Step by step, _my friends._ Step by step."

 **xxx**

Quaking rides like the train are one of many reason why people are thankful that seat belts were invented. Oswald, Mickey, Gus, and Cecelia wished more than two were provided. Being strapped to seats bigger than themselves sort of stole from the safe feeling. The tracks were rickety, old, teeming with neglect from the years of being drowned by thinner. The train was in a similar state, if not worse. The steam feeding through the veins, pumped vigorously by the coals being shoveled into the engine. The spheres in the caboose could only do so much for the old rig. The chugging wheels rampaging on the corroded rails at mach 2 speeds an hour. Gus was unnerved by the despicable state of this train. His team should have seen to this method of transport the moment the thinner released it. For the first mile refurbishings were evident. That was months ago. The rest was left unattended. Oswald was lying casually to his side, head propped by a hand and elbow. Cecelia and Mickey clawed desperately at the seats on the terrifyingly prolonged turns. The train practically tilted, close to flying off and sending them into the abyss where none would ever find them. An ingenious plan by The Mad Doctor that they willfully walked into.

"We should be arriving soon." Gus reassured his friends. Mickey and Cecelia were starting to turn a little green. "Try to hang in there."

Mickey will try. Maybe lying down like Oswald would help him. Cecelia distracted herself by fiddling with her com-pin. Running her thumb lovingly across the feline insignia. A sardonic joke Prescott made to sort of tease her about her transformation. She was flattered though. The pin was cute, and Prescott's often told her she was too. The memories of their first couple of dates filled her heart with butterflies. Her stomach was tickled recalling the first time Prescott ever kissed her. That kiss brought her back from the dead. A bit grim, but straight from a fairytale.

"Tomorrow…"

"What's that?" Gus caught Cecelia's whisper.

She hadn't realized she spoke out loud. She blushed noticing she was kissing her pin. "Tomorrow is our anniversary. Mine and Prescott's." She sheepishly stoked hairs behind her ear. Oswald glanced from the corner of his eye, brow knitting. Mickey and Gus beamed with congratulations, hands clapped that such a wonderous occasion would come. "We haven't planned anything, given what's happening. But once things calm down we'll probably think of something."

"Well cheers nonetheless, darling." Gus hugged her warmly. He ran a hand up and down her back. "May you both have happier years to come."

"Thanks, Gus!" She giggled giddily. Mickey's head over heels for Minnie himself. He gave her two thumbs up, guaranteeing that Cecelia won't be disappointed by those years. Cecelia sprouted wings and was fluttering to cloud nine. This quake and The Mad Doctor have served in reuniting Prescott and Cecelia, spiriting them across the gap they created. This is a sign that they are meant to rekindle. She wants to. A perturbed mumble under the breath wrinkled her brow. "Don't keep us in suspense, OZ! What's got you so hot under the collar?!" She hissed. Mickey and Gus were baffled by the 180 shift.

"As you wish!" Oswald huffed at the provocation, darting straight up with a defiant glare which he wasn't shy about locking to her. Cecelia folded her legs and her arms, a glow shimmering in her ruby orbs, daring him to speak what's on his mind. Though she knows that song. "You want to say my judgment is clouded by a past relationship! Yours is clouded by a current one!" Cecelia brow knit with a draping shadow.

Mickey and Gus pondered if the air was growing thick. It was hard to breathe. Lumps were forming in their throats and swelling. Glancing between the two, they saw there was a heated friction emanating from them. _What happened on the Angel side?_ "Pardon me, friends." Gus inserted himself. He purposefully went in the middle, discarding the twitching hands from flinging magic or electricity. "What precisely are you both talking about?"

"Our dear Oswald here wants me to turn my sights onto Prescott instead of The Doctor!" She snapped venomously. "He thinks Prescott stole my magic because he had my book! And tore a page out of it!" All of which was absolutely ridiculous, by her the tone in her voice. Mickey and Gus gasped appalled, gawking utterly revolted at Oswald. He was accusing her closest friend and love.

Oswald won't have the floor crumble under him with her going with him. "I just find it odd, Cecelia! You want to accuse the man miles away instead of the one two feet away!" In spite of the complete vulgarity of the circumstance, a piece of Gus and Mickey had to agree with Oswald. They kept it to themselves, but they feared Cecelia could see it in their faces. As Gus has been there, he can testify to every fact that Prescott's been acting strange the past few months. Learning of his and Cecelia's fight revealed the mystery. But there was...something off when they went to visit him before heading to The Falls. Like he was hiding something. And he was pale when Cecelia kept getting closer.

"I'm sorry. I must have misheard you!" Cecelia curtly raised a hand. "Because it sounds like you're passing the blame to Prescott! The one Gremlin you trusted to solve your projector problem a year ago!" The same Gremlin he should be looking to now instead of condemning. "Tell me, Oswald, are you so determined to save your _friend_ that you'll throw others under the bus?"

"Now look who's passing blame!" Oswald sneered. "You aren't exactly hiding you want to save Prescott!"

"Especially when the real culprit just called us from the Gulch!" She decreed in stone.

"A culprit who hasn't been anywhere near your book in the past year!"

"You don't know that! You don't hang out with Prescott!"

"Oh look! I think you just admitted Prescott does things in secret!"

"HOW CAN YOU KEEP STANDING HERE DEFENDING HIM?!" She roared with her feline fangs extended. Lightning surged between her horn sharp ears. The circuitry of the train faltered under her, paralyzing Mickey and Gus in their places. "After everything he's done to you, Ortensia-"

"Don't bring her into this!" Oswald lunged from his seat. The train trembled under his stomping feet. "Don't you dare bring her into this!"

"She's part of this! She was turned to stone, kidnapped, almost killed - and all because of the guy we're taking time to rescue from...whatever!"

"Mickey almost caused massive casualties too! And I forgave him!" Gus comforted the heavily weeping mouse, patting him on the back. He hasn't quite forgiven himself. He cried waterfalls, blowing his nose like a trombone.

"That was an accident and Mickey isn't evil! He's more than paid for what he's done!

"Why shouldn't The Doc be given the same chance?" She made Oswald's point. "Ortensia agrees with me there."

Cecelia slipped off the seat, matching him glare for glare. "You know very well she agrees with me too! But because she loves you she's going along with this!" She swept a hand at the train. If Ortensia had spoken her mind none of them would be on this train ride to Hell.

"So are you!"

"Because I trust you, Oswald! But I never said I'd do anything for that monster!" Both Oswald and The Doc are lucky Cecelia's magic is confined somewhere. The meteors she is capable of bringing down on their heads would shatter Wasteland. Maybe she won't go that far.

"Don't call him that!"

"Why not?! He is!"

"Pretty hypocritical for one monster to call another a monster!" Oswald quickly threw his hands over his mouth. Cecelia went blank, paling to grey stone. Gus and Mickey dropped their jaws, their veins pumping with appalled adrenaline. Her head slowly fell. Her bangs shadowed her abject hatred for the rabbit. "I didn't mean that!" He shakily recovered, trembling head to toe. Cecelia's void eyes darkened, her bangs obscuring the hurt glossing them. "Cecelia! I really didn't mean it!"

"I think you did." She rasped. And it made her laugh. Curious. Why was she laughing? How was any of this funny? "I live with my sins, Oswald. I wear them on my sleeve for everyone to see! I don't hide them with songs and smiles." Very poor songs by a man with too thick an accent. "Nothing we do can ever erase what we've done. But that doesn't give outsiders like you the right to throw it in our faces!"

"Cecelia…" He reached out.

"Don't!" Her slapping his hand popped a furious shock. He blew on the smoke, sucking on the throbbing palm. "I have to wonder, Oswald," He was scared to the seats, leaning back on his hands. Her blank expression carried the air of a demon, "Am I worthy of your forgiveness? Your trust? A second chance? Because if not," Her hand at the seat, Oswald felt ice snake down his spine. The red of her eyes melting him from the inside, "Who's the hypocrite now?" She purred darkly. Oswald gasped horrified at his own words smacking him upside the head. His knees knocked together.

The train reaching its destination was divine intervention. Mickey and Gus practically trampled on one another to escape. Cecelia turned on her heels, letting her leer linger on the frozen Oswald as she exited. He released a breath, holding onto the seat for dear life so he wouldn't collapse. "Man...she's scary." While he's sorry he hurt her feelings, he doesn't regret what he's said. He disembarked the train with his head high, but his spirit low.

As still the designated newcomers to Wasteland, Mickey and Cecelia continued to be shocked that any region of Wasteland can catch them off guard. Lo and Behold their jaws were falling farther than that abyss covered in fog below them. Wonder and awe filled their sparkling eyes, and noteable discontent at the mess before them. Mickey and Cecelia know that Mickeyjunk Mountain is the main region of all Wasteland where forgotten junk creates a land of the lost and found. And by a pure miracle shape platforms and pathways for people to traverse. This mountainous region on the outskirts of the gulch was, in a way, constructed with a bit more tact. A massive hat resembling the Mad Haberdasher's sign coasted back and forth to ledges, and from there was a path of strategically placed junk making a bigger, scaling up a cliff side. A few beetleworx contraptions acted as elevators. One that looked like The Doc's old dome machine was climbing up and down the cliff side, another like a helicopter lift was hovering from one platform to the next, and there was a third blowing gusts of wind. It was a glorified fan.

"Brilliant!" Gus cheered, slamming a fist to his palm. He chuckled triumphantly. Mickey and Cecelia missed where this monstrosity caused celebration. Gus would spare his team for the train tracks. The bridge is a pleasant sight. "The bridge is working again! What a marvelous piece of technology!" He swooned.

"And you expect us to cross this _marvel of technology_?" Cecelia scoffed skeptically. "Somehow I feel safer walking on a trapeze above a pit of Blotlings."

Mickey laughed nervously, twitching his cheek in silent agreement. "Maybe there's another way to reach The Mad Doctor." He optimistically proposed. Oswald and Gus pondered his suggestion. Cecelia and Mickey left them to debate amongst themselves. No one knows Wasteland better. Cecelia sat to a banded bunch of wires, hugging her knees to her chest. She solemnly hid half her face behind her knees. Her dim eyes stretching into space. "H-Hey? Cecelia…?" Mickey approached, standing away in case she hadn't quite calmed down. "You okay?"

Cecelia scoffed at his concern, finding herself not in the mood for pity. "Am I okay? I really do hate that question." She's not okay. She's never really OKAY. She just goes about her life, day by day, grind by grind, with minor humors and troubles greeting her. Oswald's stab at her previous crimes and her habitual blazing tantrums reminded her of the thin wire she walks on. That trapeze sounded like a pleasant jaunt. "So, do you agree with him? Does a monster like me have room to judge?" She asked with her dark smile.

"But you're not." Mickey moaned, kneeling to her. "Cecelia, you aren't a monster."

"Whatever…" She doesn't care what he thinks. These are words friends spout to friends in order to pacify them for a time. They are empty. "Let's just reach The Doc and go home." She rose to her feet, storming to the brainstorming duo. "Tell me that bridge - and I use the term loosely - isn't the only way there." She demanded. That train ride was enough for her.

"The Doc never has just one door." Oswald elucidated. "And I can't see him making this trek without one of his machines."

"Then he must have a secret entrance we can use." Gus voiced what everyone was thinking. He pointed to the bound group of wires Cecelia was sitting on. "And I think those might be the key to finding such a door." Mickey and Cecelia arched a bewildered brow. Now that their attention is drawn to it, those wires did seem out of place. Ironic considering nothing really had a place around there. Clamps heavily nailed the gathered wires to the bedrock. The rubber insulation shielding the wires were abnormally thick. Someone doesn't want them disturbed. They might be the power behind this so called bridge. With how in shape they are, they're being seen to on a regular basis. "Oswald, what does your remote say?"

Oswald hovered his remote above the wires. He was taken aback by an intense heat brushing his fur, but twisted the knob to focus the remote emitting energy. The bulb on the antenna strobed brightly, resonating with with the energy pumping through those electrical veins. Veins spiked on the remote's screen, fiercely squealing as it fought to sustain the power emitting from the wires. "Yep! These cords are powering something and they're still running hot."

"Hey!" Mickey had followed the cords to wall they connected to. He ran his hands over the cricket figure face bolted to the cliff's rock wall. Vibrations were coming from it. "I think what these cords are powering is behind here!" He knocked on the giant mask, receiving the same thick rebound. A hollow echo startled him. He tested the spots again, jostling lose panels in their slot. "This is a door! What's behind it?"

"Our way into the Doc's lair, I hope." Oswald stated. "Let's follow these wires and see where they go." He proposed. Mickey went with the rabbit, both locked on the wires.

Cecelia huffed angrily, grudgingly led by Gus to aide in the search. That smooth smile of his makes him impossible and too irritating to resist. Must be his elderly charm. "Hm?" A shadow past Cecelia. She looked down, squinting at a sphere spanning from Gus's shadow. She shot her head up, gasping in dismay. "LOOK OUT!" She tackled Gus seconds before a tire crash landed with a piercing screech. Mickey and Oswald mustered their weapons, heads reeling at the sputtering jalopy of a vehicle balancing on the elongated leg. The car whisked around on that wheel. The two front wheels stretched into buff arms, both with RPG barrels ready to fire. It flexed and posed, displaying it threatening presence. Spits of fire whistled from the dual exhaust pipes. A searing red light hidden behind the grill blazed in tandem to its desire for chaos. "Is that a beetleworx or a blotworx?"

"Whatever it is, it's coming back for more!" Gus warned. The car revved its engine to the fullest, the tire fervently burning rubber. Kicking up a screen of dirt digging a deep gash in the solid rock.

Cecelia drew her book, fluttering the pages open. The car charged a high speeds. Cecelia blinked it was upon her, drawing one of its arms all the way back. " _PROTEGO MAXIMA!_ " She roared virulently. A glow emanated from her eyes. The car's thrown punch was violently repelled, sending it flying several yards away. The backlash being Cecelia was driven back. Her feet left drag marks. Her spells aren't complete, but they are effective enough. "Find us a way in! I'll deal with this thing!" She proclaimed to the gawking mouse and rabbit.

"We're on it!" Oswald followed the wires. No time for guess work. They have to lead to behind the panel Mickey found. The wires dove off the edge of the cliff. Oswald threw himself to the wooden railing, searching for where the wires cut off. "MICKEY! DOWN THERE!" Mickey lurched over the railing. Platforms protruding from the cliffside descended to a ledge barely peeking from the rock. "That has to be it!"

"Then let's go!" Mickey jumped the railing, landing to a crouch on the first large step. Oswald floated down on his propelling ears, remote ready for the quick escape they need.

 **xxx**

Gus stayed with Cecelia, offering more moral support than offensive. He's quick with a wrench, though not quick enough to deal with a high powered beetleworx. Or Blotworx. Cecelia stalked in circles in a daring dance with the machine. The pages of her book flipped of their own volition, golden dust gusting from the aging pages. Her ruby orbs hardened as the machine revved like a growling animal, challenging the young kitten to strike so it may run her down. _BEEP! BEEP!_ It blared its horn. The tire arms flared and raised to the air. Three rocket projectiles launched in an arch from each, centering their crosshairs upon the feline and her gremlin friend. Cecelia flipped backed onto her palms, fluttering her legs. Narrowly had she dodged the missiles. Hot breaths of the controlled explosions wafting up her skirt to her tail. Stilling facing it she cast her hands backwards. Gus threw up his wrench, shaking meekly as the missiles neared him. A shield repelled the missiles over the edge. He wiped away sweat in relief. Mickey and Oswald reached the mystery machine powering the cords when the missiles shrieked past them. They gawked and exchanged stares, scared of what's happening upstairs.

"You okay, Gus?!" Cecelia stretched a fist sideways, a shimmering blue sphere encasing it.

"Better thanks to you! Are you sure your magic is gone?" He teased her. This reminds him of when she first demonstrated her prowess. Cecelia had to laugh at his meek joke. That's what she loves about Gus. He sees the bright side of things, and he brings smiles to those around him.

The car beeped angrily, hammering its arms on its hood. It drew its arms back. Fire and smog gathering in the barrels for a disastrous attack. Cecelia cast her balled hand to broken debris. The same shimmer lifted them from the ground. The car fired six projectiles all for her. Cecelia swung her arm forth, throwing wood, metal, rock, and some form of plastic in their path. Debris and missile erupted into dank, grey clouds of fire and shrapnel. Cecelia threw up another shield, saving her and Gus from the ribbon tattering darts. The smoke was whisked by the wind and encompassed the two, obscuring the machine and the outside from Gus and Cecelia. The two moved close together, Gus staying at her back. The car taunted with cackling sputters and drawn out whirrs. One second it would be in front, the next behind, and then on both sides. It taunted them like a predator in the bushes. Raising their little hearts to the maximum rate, sending the adrenaline pumping in the veins to their wobbling knees. They can't trust their ears, their eyes, none of the sense they've come to depend on. Gus drew a second wrench, digging in his feet in anticipation. Cecelia balled and loosened her fingers, cracking the knuckles. Her ears flexed, trying to center on the engine. A rocket broke the smoke, breezing over their heads, scaring them out of their skin. A second came from the opposite direction, jerking them to the left. One sent them to the right. On actually came from the very ground. It was toying with them.

Cecelia flipped her book's pages, stopping an a spell. Her finger on the page she siphoned the magic from within. Ribbons resembling binary coding - scriptures of numbers - arose. Snaking up her arm to her shoulder. She cradled it like a babe. She let the car have its fun. Allowed it to dance like the monkey it is. Then she heard the intakes of air and saw the rockets break the smoke again. She cracked the coding like a whip, slapping one rocket after the other with a scripture. Four out of six were touched. The other two narrowly missed her and Gus by inches. The four escaped the smoke, going to who knows where. " _Redeo ad tua opificem!_ " _**(Return to your maker)**_ The scripture at her arm flared. The four missiles perform an about face. The car retreated at the smoke was beginning to clear, then paused at the shrill sounds of rockets. It looked on in terror as its own arsenal came roaring back. It whimpered, then held up a sign, _Should have been a used car salesman._ The car was incinerated, nothing left but a pockmark and some smoke.

"Nicely done, dear." Gus pat her on the back.

"Thank you!" She beamed with flushed cheeks.

 **xxx**

The steps lead to a section of rock crafted out of toon. A swiggling gap was thinned away. A plethora of beeps and vibrating hums perforated the bedrock. Oswald stood on Mickey's shoulders, grasping at the hole to see what lurked within. An industrial grade generator was hidden inside the crevice, pumping thousands of watts a second through those tightly bound cords leading to a dead wall. Oswald nodded with a thumbs up, jumping down. He and Mickey saw the redirected missiles gun in an automatic U-Turn back for Gus and Cecelia. "We have to hurry! They're in trouble!"

Mickey thinned the wall away, freeing the generator from its clever hiding place. If that isn't powering anything, Mickey and Cecelia are going to be reliving their Mickeyjunk Mountain escapade. Though it would still be preferable to meeting up with The Mad Doctor. An access port at the front was ice cold from prolonged inactivity. Power was feeding into the cords, but in reality it wasn't going anywhere. Mickey analyzed the port, finding limit differences in this version from the one at the DEC. "Think you can activate this one?"

"Only one way to find out!" Oswald hit the button. A current struck the port, bringing all three power bulbs to life on the crown. The generator reinvigorated with new-found energy, circuits firing on every cylinder within its me library grade body. Rapid quads of electrical pulses caressed the bound cords.

 **xxx**

Gus saw the pulsating energy scrolling the cords. He gaped in dismay as Cecelia was about to sit on them to rest. He dove fast and swooped her up by the underarms. She yelped at the static snaking her tail. She thanked Gus with a relieved pat to his hand. That's a shock she doesn't need. The pulses seeped into the power source obscured by the metallic wall. The eyes and tongue of the giant mask lit up, and in one grandstanding motion, the goofily gaped smiling mouth parted like a door. A thick, elastic tongue rolled out like the red carpet, practically welcoming them inside. Gus and Cecelia grinned at the projector hidden inside.

"Well what do you know! There IS a secret entrance to The Mad Doctor's lab!" Gus marveled at the discovery. He must jot this down in his journal. Cecelia groaned irritably. He sounded as if he wasn't expecting there to be a door. "What? Scientists aren't known to make the same mistakes twice. And The Mad Doctor exhausted his free secret passages limit."

"There's a limit for that?"

He was hoping she'd ask that. A drumroll came out of nowhere, and suddenly the lights went down. A spotlight canvassed the showpony suspense, bringing the light onto a top hat wearing Gus at the chime of a symbol. " _Club Secret Doors, as financed by the Grimoire Gremlins!_ " Gus reached into his breast pocket and showed her a flamboyant maroon and gold membership card. Little leaflets decorating the sides, and center images of Gus, Markus, and Sparks. Sunglasses, tuxes, and golden teeth. " _A guaranteed moveable secret or your money back. Not eligible in most parts of Tomorrow City."_

"Ooh~ fancy!" She sparkled.

Mickey and Oswald rushed back to the too, stunned to find all was tranquil. And Gus and Cecelia were right as rain. Sometimes they forget that Cecelia and Gus can handle themselves. When exactly did they start losing faith in their friends. "Anything good happen?" Oswald joked partially.

"Better than good!" Cecelia chimed. Her hyperactive finger pointed at the projector. "There IS a backdoor!" Yensid has a tricky mirror, a main entrance, and then the backdoor. But he doesn't have a secret door! Cecelia's inner child couldn't help gushing over it. She's always wanted to roam through secret entrances.

"Was there ever a doubt?" Oswald winked. Cecelia pursed her lips guiltily. "AW! CECELIA!" He whined, large tears dangling and clanking together. That's heartbreaking. She shrugged her hands, laughing nervously. What can she say? The day's been filled with doubts. "But what do you say, Gus? Will this really get us there?"

"I am one hundred percent confident!" He swung a fist.

Cecelia flashed the membership card. "That's the slogan on the back of this. Very trusting." She bounced her brow impishly. Gus snatched the card back, shoving it into his pocket. Cecelia giggled adorably at his flustered face. "Well, we have an appointment. Shall we?" She was the first to leap forth into the Old Mill Projector. Gus pushed his horns forward, titling an imaginary hat at the challenge, and leaped in after her. Mickey and Oswald shrugged, plugged their noses, and cannonballed in.

 **xxx**

 _ **DO NOT ENTER**_ was posted in big, bold red letters across a particular section of Ventureland. Tall planks held by wads of super glue and buried several feet in the dirt barred that section in a fence. Their incredible height and the thickness of the wood hoped to discourage the curious. The pirates who roamed couldn't resist their childish inclinations and would often try to pillage the wall to see what all the ruckus was about. Anyone who has actually made it to the top wasn't able to see much before being sucker punched by a bungee boxing glove laced with lead. Going under the wall wasn't an option either. The fence was cleverly constructed a mere hair above the homes of some very unfriendly mole rats. The loud noises drove the residents mad with suspense and intrigue, sending their imaginations running rampant to the impossible. How disappointed they would be learning all the sounds they heard, the kick up of dust wafting higher than the fence, was all show. A radio for the sounds, large fans for the dust, and a cat or two for the crashes. A rouse for Prescott to complete his real work several projectors away.

Far within Ventureland, nestled within regions long forgotten since the thinner disaster, Prescott worked tirelessly on the projects The Mad Doctor commanded he touch up in his stead. Not even The Mad Doctor can mislead Oswald and Company and work on his machinations of terror simultaneously. Perhaps the one saving grace of this out of the way work is that Prescott won't have to bear to watch Cecelia slip into his clutches. To see the betrayal that will fill her heart and shatter it will shatter him. _Cecelia…_

Thoughts on her adversely affected his work. He was missing simple steps, miscalculating measurements - amateurish errors he wouldn't normally make. It can also be attributed to lack of sleep. Prescott made amazing headway with his and The Mad Doctor's little side project. He can stand to pry himself from it for a while. Or for the rest of time, as working on anything for The Mad Doctor ate at him like a ravenous beast. That madman already commissioned him to build a TV to the cartoon world before Ortensia and Gus constructed theirs. Were it not under duress of losing Cecelia sooner than later he'd have abandoned these inane tasks long ago. Instead he would postpone them and move on to his own project within Blot Alley past the Floatyard. It is there his true work awaits...where he hides what Cecelia seeks.

 _A little while longer...just a little while longer._ Until Wasteland sees the true genius they shut away inside that insipid Gag Factory.

 **xxx**

Those people who coined the phrase _walking into a wall of heat_ would be billionaires if they leaped from The Old Mill Projector into the blistering inferno Oswald and the others did. The Mill projector had pleasant winds and 360 degree fair weather the whole climb. It prompted the trio of animals to take a brief nap, as is the nature of the species they represent. Gus threatened to pour buckets of ice water on them if they so much as started to nod off. A kill joy if ever they met one. They pouted in protest, digging in their heels like children being told they had to leave an amusement park. Gus demonstrated his deceptive strength in pushing them along. He gave them swift kicks in the rump out the projection. He was devotedly apologetic after they exited the projector. He broke into a dead sweat when he left. The metallic corridor he entered reflected the smoldering heat that began baking him alive on contact. He was about to proceed after his friends when a sicken slosh came at his feet. He yelped in terror. The others were dying puddles. He pulled a hose from the wall and hosed them down. Their figures reinvigorated slumping at the wall. Whistling fountains spat from their mouths. Mickey had a fish in there somehow. The trio shook themselves dry and were able to leave their haze enough to growl at him.

"Heh-heh! Sorry…" He shrank, fiddling with his hands.

"Where the heck are we?" Mickey groaned, pushing on his knee to stand.

"I think this is the Mad Doc's lab." Oswald scratched his head. "I've only come in the front, but I'm sure this is the lower half of it." Gus went on to scour the road ahead. The large doors separating the projector were open, so there was no need to knock.

"Where is it? In a volcano?" Cecelia tugged unbearably at her collar. Thank goodness her only fur was on her ears and tail. She's going to melt again.

"Pretty close, I'd say!" Gus called from the other side. The others raced to the ledge he hovered from. If it was possible it got another ten degrees hotter by passing those doors. Searing fumes burrowed into their flesh. Oswald took his ears and wrung out a bucket of sweat. A flower sprouted instantly and withered almost as quickly. Gus directed their attention to a bubbling pit below.

The three bent forward. "Ho…" Oswald trailed off aghast.

"Lee…" Mickey couldn't believe his eyes.

"Chipmunks!" Cecelia finished. It wasn't a volcano, but that lava pit down there was just as uninviting.

"Look at this place!" Oswald reveled in the genius. A large washer shaped platform was floating aimlessly atop the lava, bobbing in the gelatinous brew. From way up there it looked safe enough. But let it be their true to form luck that they jump down and it burns them alive. Oswald and Gus scanned for another means of reaching The Mad Doctor without having to make that dive. Aside from the couple of platforms stretching to the left, there was no other way up. "The Mad Doc doesn't do anything small, does he?"

"No...I guess he doesn't." Mickey retorted uneasily. Anyone with this much time on their hands kind of makes him nervous. Mickey trailed his attention up, amazed by the smooth chasm of rock housing this intense inferno. Pipes imbedded to the wall were exhausting heavy amounts of steam into the air, adding to the sweltering humidity mixed with the dry heat. "So where is he anyway?" Heck if Oswald knew. He's only been to the lad a couple of times. There was a second level shaped like the floating ring. He had to squint to see through the roaring fumes, but he vaguely made out lab equipment from where he was. That was their ticket to The Mad Doctor.

"Gus? Oswald?" Mickey needn't ask. Oswald and Gus were ready when they were. Mickey and Cecelia reached for their hands, stepping on the very edge.

Suddenly a rumble vibrated the chasm. It bounced up and down, jostled loose from its moorings. "Hey! What's happening?!" Oswald's voice quaked.

Mickey and Cecelia paused, ice snaking their spines at the noise and they gulped looking down. The lava below was rippling irregularly. The bubbles disturbed by a rumbling scaling the walls. "This place really is a volcano!" Cecelia cried. "It's gonna blow!"

"That's not an eruption!" Gus panicked. "That's an-" The rumbling transformed into a violent torrent of shakes. The pit was rocked asunder like soda trapped in a can, begging for the top to be popped, "AFTERSHOCK!" Lava splashed to the walls, the cracks sprouting from inside the walls ravaged the bedrock. Mickey and Cecelia's feet slipped off the ledge. They plummeted for a head first dive into the pit. "WE'RE COMING!" Oswald and Gus dove. Mickey and Cecelia closed their eyes. Gus and Oswald came in hot from the sides, tackling their friends to the solid metal surface. Relief came at the narrow save, and the floating platform being cool enough to sit on.

"This place has too much excitement." Cecelia wheezed. "We need to move back to OsTown." Gus agreed. He's getting too old for this.

A low, reverberating rumble shook the cavern asunder once again. Right to the bone, Cecelia, Mickey, and Oswald felt the intensity. "NOT AGAIN!" Oswald whined.

"No! This isn't an aftershock!" Gus assured him, making it much worse. "What could it be?"

"LOOK OUT!" Cecelia spread her glowing hands. Massive, yet stunted, wings flapped their way from the lava. Large globs splatted to Cecelia's shield. She gaped in dismay as the shield faltered, trickles of lava leaking through. "Dammit!" She hissed. Too bad that wasn't the least of her worries.

A half thinned half painted animatronic replica of Pete the Dragon emerged from the lava. Stubby arms flailing wildly. His hands slammed to the platform, nearly shaking Oswald and the others off into the lava. He lurched himself forward, roaring heatedly at the rabble that entered his home. Searing red LED eye lights boring into his prey. He whipped his tail free from the pit. A twin sided buzzsaw at the tip he twisted and tore the cave wall. A minor collapse happened away from the heroes, even gave them a little elevation from the arena. Gus flew from the monster's sights, inspecting this new route.

"MY FRIENDS! UP HERE! QUICKLY!" The dragon's thrashing caused The Mad Doctor's lab to falter, inadvertently creating a spiraling exit for them to escape from. Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald picked themselves up, scrambling into a sprint for Gus.

Rocks piled in the lava, leading up to a winding pathway into the belly of The Mad Doctor's lab. Oswald and the others weren't farther than 10 steps from the path. The dragon smashed his buzzsaw tail down at the foot of the slope. Mickey's heels screeched on the stop. Oswald and Cecelia collided into him, toppling over. The dragon was mocking the trio with a guttural chuckle. He jerked his tail, sending his buzzsaw tail into overdrive. The blades shrieked ear piercingly loud against the metal, sparks flying in every direction. Smooth gashes feasibly tore the metal like butter. He languidly moved it toward them. Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald screamed, tripping over their own feet into a sprint. The dragon watched them amused. They were like ants running from a few drops of rain. Mickey's fit of panic clumsily fumbled his hands as he struggled to take up the brush. Blindly he launched globs of thinner for the tail. From base to tip he desperately tried to slow it down. Seldom did he land a direct hit, but the glancing grazes were enough to wound the creature. Large spots in it yellow speckled, and green paint job were evaporated, exposing the mechanisms hiding beneath the shawdy toon. The motor in its hind gradually lost power in fighting to sustain energy from the thinner splashes.

The slope was coming up. Oswald threw his ears in mach speed and took after Gus, securing a spot halfway up the slope. He and Gus leaned to the edge, pleading Mickey and Cecelia to hurry with extended hands. The dragon yanked his tail high, bringin it around. Cecelia slipped on her sudden stop, shoving Mickey back. He smashed the tail down to the other side of them, chasing them back in the opposite direction. The same result happened each time the slope remotely came within their reach. Mickey actually made it on only to be batted back into the arena. Running wasn't working. The dragon was going to keep needling them until they ran out of steam. And in this heat that was going to happen sooner than they thought.

Cecelia dug in her feet, squaring to the high speed blade. She flipped through her spellbook, coming to a spell for a frigid winter. She slapped a flat palm, ushering that sub zero spell to her palm. Scriptures traces her arms in ribbons, breathing with soft whispers of the frozen north. " _Chilled body! Frozen soul! I call upon the winds that bid mountains take their toll!_ " She thrust her hand, nearly prying her arm from the joint. Were it her magic was returned a blizzard would have come from the bowels of this pit. Instead, what can only be described as a howling breeze was unleashed upon the encroaching tail. Ice, snow, and wind pelting the tail in rapid volleys. Cecelia shared the spell to her other hand, backing away as the yet to slow tail got closer. She aimed for the slits to the spinning gears, hoping to at least freeze them. Mickey stood by her, launching gallons of thinner for the tail itself. The tail was left completely naked and the tail was still running hot. He led the thinner to the lower body. It slid off the metal machinations like grease. He didn't give up. He can't. Not with their escape so close.

"COME ON! COME ON!" Cecelia screamed contemptuously at herself. _Pathetic! This is pathetic!_ She doesn't need her full power! Things like this are chumps to her. So far...she was the chump. Her frigid wind was melting on contact with the shrilly whirling tail. Her breath was labored, her lungs on fire, and none of it coming from the heat. She might as well have been shooting bee-bee pellets at a tank. Her bullets were repelled, leaving not even a scratch on him. The icy winds gradually thinned, weakening to barely even strained huffs. And Mickey's thinner was running on empty. "No! Not now! Come on!" The strain to pour power she knows she no longer has was slowly and definitely taking everything she had. Her veins were throbbing agonizingly. The blood vessels in her eyes started to show. The ice inside the wind was melting the second it left her palm, falling short of their mark. She attempted to close the distance, but was constantly dragged by Mickey. The wind no longer a breeze but a dry heave. Her hands and arms were losing feeling fast. They wanted to remain erect. The weight of the numbing muscle to great to bear. "No...More...MORE!" She screamed. But she had no more. Her vision blurred and her head spun. The uneven panel she stepped upon robbed her feet from under her and she hit the ground with a thud.

"CECELIA!" Mickey cried. The dragon shook off the sloshing liquid. He loomed his saw tail torturously above her, cackling from his gut as aligned the whirling blades with her tiny body. Oswald set his remote to full power. Mickey twirled his brush, summoning every ounce of thinner. Both launched their streams, striking the dragon's tail dead center on that menacing blade. The dragon roared in agony. The combined streams merged into a plasma beam eating its way inside the now frailing gears, dismantling the blade from the inside out. Steam and smoke wafted from the slits. There was a ringing pop and the saw blade flew off and sank into the lava pit. The dragon stomped rampantly, holding its head in pain. In his tantrum he slammed fists onto the platform, breaking the panels apart. Lava seeped inside the panels, cooking their floatation to a crisp and swallowing them whole. Mickey tossed Cecelia onto his back, storming up the slope without a second to lose. The lava touched the toe of his shoe just as he escaped.

"Hand her here!" Gus urged. Mickey passed her off, watching fretfully as Gus took her to the top floor. He found a ledge to set her on, gently running a hand over her flushed cheeks. Her eyes were barely able to stay open. "Cecelia…" She rolled herself onto her back. It was a chore to lift her arm, but she sucked it up in order to drape it over her eyes. To hide her shame. She failed. "Stiff up a lip, Girl! We're not done yet!" He threw a bucket of ice water on her. Again, where is he getting these things? Damn Disney logic! He grabbed her by the ears. "They need your help!" He smashed his nose to hers. "NOW HELP!"

"But...my spells aren't working! The dragon isn't like the Blotlings or the Beetleworx!" He's...he's too big. Her spells will just fall off.

"Then don't battle him like one!" She arched a brow, unsure where he was going. "You once said magic is the manifestation of your conviction and imagination! What you wish to happen will happen!" He clawed at his chest, poetically projecting her words to the cavern's surrounding them. "Use that imagination, Cecelia! Your magic is merely clogged, not gone! Even a leak can yield results! Now show me the full throttle of your imagination!" Cecelia marveled at Gus in reverence. Clear in her eyes to him, however, were the doubts beginning to blossom.

 **xxx**

Oswald's ears were too droopy to fly him or Mickey out of there. The dragon hooked his talons to the rock carved slope, dragging his half dead body to meet his scrambling quarry. His virulent growls vibrated their bones. He pressed his hulking body to the wall, slapping his chunky chin to the ledge. The shock tripped Oswald and Mickey. They paled as the dragon lifted his chin, the whole section of slope crumbling to nothing. The dragon drew his neck back. Hydraulic marshalled a full wind through vents in his chest. A green glow welled in his throat. Mickey and Oswald got to their feet. A green fumes roared from the dragon's mouth. Mickey and Oswald ran for their lives. The toon sections of the slope were erased in the blink of an eye. The pair fired electricity and thinner on their mad dash up. The eye, the mouth, his shoulders and chest. Mickey and Oswald hit everywhere and anywhere to slow the dragon. Often did their streams cross and a devastating beam would blow him back. He would return in a vengeance, howling his noxious thinner breath.

Oswald's foot dug in as the rock vanished, slipping out from under him. He was greeted by a face full of dust and rocks, sliding the stop right at the dragon's snout. Hot thin was huffed in his face. It stank more than it hurt. "Oswald!" Mickey cried. He thrust the brush to give the dagon a healthy dose of thin. The brush dribbled of all things. It was clean out. As the dragon withdrew for another foul breathed attack, Oswald expected this to hurt a lot.

The dragon opened his thinner filled mouth. The harsh fumes were at the peak of his throat. He lunged with a roar. "HEY! UP HERE!" The dragon dumbly gawked with an open mouth. Cecelia was on the edge of the upper level, hands stretched high above her head. Her small frame was trembling uncontrollably. The dragon sneered angrily, turning his thinner fumes to her. Cecelia squeaked and threw her arms down, wrenching herself in a spring. A giant boulder clogged his mouth. He grunted baffled, heaving with all his might to choke up the boulder. It was lodged in there tight. She messed her hands in some dirt. Clapping them wildly she conjured a thick has that covered the dragon's eyes, blacking everything in a dust storm. "Ha...got…'eem." Cecelia lost her balance, collapsing into Gus's arms.

The dragon was preoccupied with freeing his mouth. Mickey helped Oswald to his feet and they raced the final stretch up to their friends. "You guys okay?" Oswald asked.

"Now that you're here." Gus praised. Cecelia caught her breath, giving a weak thumbs up. A muffled roar spoiled the reunion. Truculent shaking jostled the cavern worse than the quakes tore Mena Street. The four crawled to the ledge. The dragon was thrashing about in a tantrum, smashing his jaw into the wall to shatter the boulder and clawing at his eyes to take away the haze. His boorish stomping riled the lava pit he lived in, caused the bed beneath to crack. Pocket of air released inside, bubbling the pit like soup. Dormant magma was flushed up, adding to the already hefty sum. The cavern was filling like a bowl. The dragon buried his face in it, sloshing the boulder around. The intense heat started to weaken it. Splashes chipped away at the blinding haze. "We must put an end to that metal monstrosity!"

"But how?" Mickey found bucket of thinner, reloading the brush.

"That dragon is nothing but a machine! Someone must be inside controlling it." He kept his assumptions to himself on who that might be. "Mickey, if you finish thinning out the toon, I'm sure the dragon will falter." Mickey did notice the dragon sort of slowed down when his tail was sprayed. "Oswald, Cecelia - we must buy Mickey time!" Oswald nodded firmly. Cecelia's ears dropped solemnly. _I...I can't help._ That boulder and dust bit weren't even creative.

A sicken crumble of rock shook their cores. The dragon chewed through the weakened boulder. One more rinse of his face and the haze left his beaming eyes. He growled murderously, glaring at the group waving meekly at him. "Let's get started!" Mickey urged. The dragon grabbed at the ledge, using the filling lava to float his way to the top level, roaring at the gaggle of heroes. Mickey darted off by himself, instantly capturing the dragon's attention.

"HEY! PEE BRAIN!" Oswald threw a rock at him. Didn't hurt, but it irritated him. His jaw twitched as he growled, bringing his full attention to the trio. Oswald zapped his nose, making him sneeze.

Cecelia took a break. Lifted her wriggling fingers she levitated scattered rocks and debris. " _Reanima...DYNAMICA!_ " The debris and rock hurtled forth, transforming into an explosion of sparkling confetti. The dragon was not amused by the childish spell. Cecelia, Gus, and Oswald plugged their ears with impish grins.

The dragon arched a brow, then noticed the sparkling confetti...was sparkling brighter. "Ruh-roh…!" _POP-POP-POP_ the confetti crackled and exploded like a Fourth of July celebration, jet black scrochmarks tarnishing the mech. The dragon was jerked violently, prongs at his arms and neck nearly blew out of place. Infuriated by the parlor trick the dragon tensed and threw his head up, roaring a funnel of thinner fire to the ceiling. The thinner filled the cracks. Boulders were jostled loose.

Mickey and the others rna from the growing shadows, narrowly dodging the hail storm. "Guess he doesn't like confetti!" He joked. A fully loaded brush was released upon the dragon, eating away at what little paint remained on the head and torso. The dragon would often try to attack Mickey.

Gus would go to the three generators feeding power into The Mad Doctor's lab. A little tinkering and a screeching pulse resonated painfully in the dragon's sensitive receptors. Cecelia used what she had around her - rocks, metal stuff, and some questionable liquid pooling from the wall - and would hurtle it while spouting random spells. Oswald was relentless with his remote. A good thing he kept spare batteries on hand. The dragon slammed a hand down at him, and he inflated an electrical dome the interrupted the circuits. The other hand was coming and a sent a direct beam into the wrist, severing the wires and making it go limp.

"This is working! Keep it up!" Oswald encouraged. Then he was ambushed from above. Spatters hiding in the rafter joined the fray, pinning Oswald down.

"GET BACK!" Gus swatted them away with his wrenches. Graceful twirls dared those monsters to try again. And try they did. Six spatters became eight...ten. Gus wasn't deterred. "FINISH THAT DRAGON!" He told his friends and leapt forth.

"I'll help Gus! You guys finish him!" Cecelia hovered her hand over a bucket of thinner. The green, alcoholic fumes coated her palms. She cast glowing yellow-green orbs that burst on contact with the Spatters. The thinner seeped into them, melting them on the spot.

Mickey and Oswald shared nods, glaring at the dragon. He was on hi last leg. There isn't much left to his armor. Time to end this. Coming in close, the two gathered thinner and electricity to the max. The dragon was baffled by their collusion, but savored they were making his job easier. He waited for them to come in close so he may think them to nothing. Mickey and Oswald screeched to a halt. They aimed the brush and remote. The dragon's mouth opened to fire. Electricity and thinner merged together in a vibrant plasmic beam striking the dragon dead in the back of his throat. Thinner filled his bowels while electricity snaked the veins. The dragon clattered and clanked, spasming out of control...and into a can-can for a second. The limbs were taken offline, dropping like the dead weight they are. The rest of his paint was devoured, nothing left but an exoskeleton of tune and the machinery beneath it. The dragon's energy had run its course. Oswald and Mickey ceased their attack and the dragon slouched defeated in its lava pool.

"YEAH!"

"ALRIGHT!" Mickey and Oswald slapped palms. Victory was theirs. The chest then popped open. Their jaws hit the ground in disbelief. Cecelia and Gus finished off the Spatters and were rooted by the same shock. Sitting there in the control seat was another Spatter. "That thing's been driving that the whole time?!" Mickey cried.

"Who cares! Take him out, Mick!" Oswald howled. Mickey doused the Spatter, melting him into the lava pool. Without his master the dragon fell into disrepair, collapsing his giant head onto the ledge. The light leaving his eyes forever. A ringing silence enveloped the cavern, the dragon's engines running cold.

Oswald and the others stayed on guard. Previous experience has taught them to never take anything at face value. Gus found bravery and gave the dragon a couple of test kicks. He flinched at exhaust hissing from the nostrils. But other than that, he was down for the count. "I guess this monstrosity explains The Mad Doctor's troubles."

"Where is he anyway?" Mickey asked.

A crash of glass came from above. The Mad Doctor broke through a hiding place he fashioned, falling to the ground with a cry of despair. Oswald was the first to his side with the others bringing up the rear. The Mad Doctor was helped up to his butt, propped at a wall so he wouldn't strain himself. He was a wreck. He opened his lab coat. Sparks zapped at his chest cavity, loosening it from their moorings.

"Doc! Your animatronic parts!" Oswald gasped. Even for Cecelia, the state he was in tugged at their hearts.

"They're breaking down!" Mickey caught two nuts that fell from place.

"What happened?" Cecelia's expression darkened to the brink of being depraved. Deep in the darkest depths of her souls, she didn't care WHY his parts were breaking. She wanted the breakdown to expedite so she can watch him crumble at her feet.

" _ **It's so sad...so sad to say the least!**_ " He flicked away a lonely tear ushered by memories of his happier times. " _ **I was a toon in Wasteland…living in peace.**_ " He coughed dryly, choking on the artificial air of his metal lungs. Cecelia and Gus sneered sourly, rolling their eyes at his drama. He frightened them as he bulked up. " _ **But my thirst-for-pow-er...NEARLY-GOT-DE-MO-NIC!**_ " The four man group huddled together, scared of his Blot shaping shadow. The Mad Doctor threw himself before the shadow, barring it from harming his _friends._ " _ **To control the Blot,"**_ He tire away his gloves, raising his metallic limb threateningly, _**"I became a-ni-ma-tro-nic~~**_ " He cupped hands to one cheek, sprouting a fake halo and wings.

"And tried to take Mickey's brush, my magic, and nearly kill everyone in wasteland." Cecelia hatefully threw in his face. Oswald latched a hand to her mouth, growling irately at her spoiling the moment.

"Yes…" Cecelia braced herself defensively. The Mad Doctor stooped to one knee before her. He remorsefully rubbed his arm. "I've done so many horrible things. None that I can ever repent for." He took her hands in his, pleading to her with glistening regret. His touch tainted her skin, burning her like a gallon of acid was being poured. _I'd never allow you to._ Cecelia's features blackened dangerously. Her fangs showed as she snarled. Mickey, Oswald, and Gus but she's him in their screaming heads to get away. "Because, my dear," He slipping his hands away, " _ **It feels like the end...**_ " Oswald was drinking up his pity party, while the others remained on the defensive. The tale was...farfetched. " _ **That's a bad place to start~**_ " He closed the failing appendages with revulsion. " _ **Look at me...I'm falling apart~...**_ " He stretched ah and to grasp at salvation, only for his thumb to break from its joint. " _ **I need to make a change, and NOW is not too soon!**_ " He slipped on his gloves and took up Oswald in a waltzing spin, " _ **All I really want...is to walk and talk,"**_ Leading into a spin he set the rabbit down, _ **"And be a toon…!**_ " He cupped Cecelia's cheek. His touch was acid on her skin. Every last ounce of her urged her to not bite it off. " _ **I need to right the wrongs...**_ " He tapped the other's noses, " _ **One by one...**_ " Gus shuffled his mustache, shaking off the disgusting touch. " _ **Oswald, tell me, Oswald, do you think it can be done~?**_ " Oswald nodded eagerly. The others held their doubts. "I hope you're right." He winked. " _ **Cause it feels like the end. That's a bad place to start!**_ " He slipped behind a projector, connecting wires in the shape of a bow. The projector came to life. " _ **Look at me...I'm falling apart...**_ " The four jumped in with the Doc behind them, emerging at the top of the steps of Mean Street South's train station.

Mean Street South was bustling with joyous cheers. People dancing in the streets and clapping as their heroes returned from their perilous journey. "HO-HO! Mickey, Oswald, Cecelia!" Jamface flew up to them. "The projectors, they are working again!" That's the best news they've heard all day. Cecelia drew her two boys into congratulatory hugs.

" _ **But there's big news to tell ya!"**_ The Mad Doctor inserted himself in the festivities. _ **"I can stop the Earthquakes NOW!**_ " Gus and the others gaped in disbelief. " _ **Believe me, I can do it! And soon, I'll show you how!**_ " And just like that he won the people of Wasteland, earning an even rowdier round of applause and cheer. Hats thrown in the air for the passing of this latest calamity on the horizon. " _ **But first, what I wouldn't give…"**_ The Mad Doctor strutted to the foot of the slope, hands cupped at his heart, " _ **To walk and talk...and be a toon.**_ " He lowered his voice, reaching for the heavens that held his dream just beyond his grasp. " _ **To be...a...TOOOON...**_ " Hats and flowers showered around him, the people wishing him the best in his endeavours.

Oswald and Mickey were moved by his tale of woes and dreams. If they'd gone as far as he did to control The Blot, lost their bodies to machinery, they can't say with straight faces they wouldn't go above and beyond to get them back. To be flesh and toon again. This venture he's put himself on holds too many personal stakes for him. Emerging from solitary after twice losing the being that would make his dream a reality. Not even he would jeopardize that. That's only half the votes.

Cecelia and Gus refuse to believe he's sincere. He hasn't changed. Not on bit. They would never buy a word he said even if it came with a 90% discount. He's playing everyone like well tuned violins, and those on the wall are tapping their toes to his malignant tune. Never has he done an act of mercy or kindness without their being a consolation prize for him. This whole toon dream, wanting to stop the earthquakes and fix the projectors - every helping hand he's meant comes with the promise of a drop and sudden stop. He's going to be their Pied Piper and lure everyone - including Mickey and Oswald - to their demise. They have to find his angel before that happens.

 **To be continued.**

 **No I did not forget Small Pete's part. I'm actually diverting off the main story for a bit to include the side missions around Wasteland. And plus, I can't stomach just driving through without a few fun chapters like the last story.**


	12. Fun in the Wasteland Sun

**Fun in the Wasteland Sun**

 **Here come a few short stories that will take place a while before EM2. The direct timeline will be five months, before Cecelia and Prescott's fight. They are cannon in a way, but are mostly for fun.**

 **xxx**

 **(A Hair Raising Disaster)**

"Um...Prescott, not that I doubt you..." A teenage Cecelia nervously trailed, breaking out in chills from the suction cups glued to her temples. Her welts from the Terror Box incident are as fresh as the day The Mad Doctor and Blot turned her into a Guinea Pig. Besides, that glue was ice cold. "But is all this necessary?" She prayed that beeping box wasn't going to read her mind. Or her nightmares. "It's only hair." She dismissed with a shrug.

"Precisely the words that bring those of a strict vanity like Clarabelle, Daisy, and Clara Cluck from their obscurity to ramble on idiotically!" Prescott tenderly ran fingers through her recently cut above the ear hair. The white locks stayed just out of the glue, so this shouldn't be a painful removal. "I swear to you, I can never leave the Gag Factory without those badgering hens yammering on about their looks!" He twisted around her, The frown lines and crow's feet were showing from his irritation. "Do you know how annoying it is listening to grown women fret over what time will inevitably make permanent?"

"I can imagine." Cecelia giggled in a low tone. She fixed up her black thigh high stockings and ankle high brown boots. The crate she was sitting on kept tugging at them. "Women are vain in their own right. Some about their hair, others about their weight, and then those who simply have self image issues." The last one she tossed to the wind. She doesn't have these problems. What with being ridiculed for being a halfbreed, her lack of self esteem isn't so superficial. "Losing hair is scary to some women." To which she dusted fallen strands from the sleeve of her green V-Neck. The long white attached sleeves were covered in...Goofy's hair? It's dog hair and she hugged him earlier.

"Well hopefully when I'm finished here…" Prescott dove into a trunk, throwing a kitchen sink, a plunger, and...a mini fridge to a corner, "We can...PUT...an end to that nonsense once and for all!" He strained pulling out a large tool box, slamming it onto a table. Amazing that it didn't break. Prescott pushed the button and a science kit blossomed. Two stretching side panels with three platforms of chemicals. In the middle were sharp tool, beakers, and string. Cecelia feared for her life. She naed 20 spells that will get her out of this, all ending in a bang.

When Cecelia agreed to come back to Wasteland for a visit, her ideas for her visits didn't stem to research for Prescott's hair growth formula. Or being his - as he so eloquently put - lovely assistant. Probably why she caved so easily. Prescott bats his eyes with such a childish gleam and then coos at her. She can't say no. Not that she would. Prescott's at his happiest when he can play scientist. He's very good at chemistry. Though scary at times. He has a diabolical cackle to go along with it.

"Now then...what is that formula?" He muttered to himself, scrambling through his notes. "Acid? No. Mercury? Not even. Radioactive moon rock…? Possibly." Cecelia, soaking in nervous sweat, chose spell number 15. She'll melt into a puddle, Prescott will investigate it, and it will grab him and stick him to the floor for six hours. "AH-HA! Here we go!" He jabbed a finger to the formula. Cecelia went to spell number 19. A clone of Cecelia will be left, and once he touches it it'll give him a shock. "Two parts shea butter, one part olive and avocado oil, a pinch of coconut extract, six ounces of caster oil, three egg whites, and a dash of oregano." Was he making a hair formula or breakfast? He poured those ingredients into a glass bowl. "Super heat to 600…" He watched the pasty concoction heat within seconds. He connected an air tight tubing. The heated brew bubbled and was sucked through the thick glass tube, being sent through loops, swirls, and spirals. Before it could pour from the other side into the container, Prescott threw in five balls of ice inside. He egged the concoction on, yelling profanities when it clogged at certain areas. It started dripping into the container, the ice melting on contact and giving the brew a bit of solidity.

Cecelia ogled the brew intrigued. The color was a nice butter with mixed specks of green. A natural...sort of herbal smell with the oil mixtures wafted with the steam. Honestly, it didn't look or smell bad. The question being, as the brew finished emptying into the container, was _is it safe._ Prescott removed his glove. Cecelia stifled a gasp. He cringed on the side of caution, squeezing his eyes closed tight as he placed his finger inside. Cecelia couldn't watch. But did peek through her fingers. Prescott stirred it around, taking in the cooling, oily, moistening feel. His eye poked open. "W-Well?"

"UREKA!" He was struck by genius. He was relieved there wasn't an explosion. But mostly because it was safe on skin. "Now for the final test. He took what was on his finger and traced it along the centerline of Cecelia's roots. It was colder than she thought. "Feel anything?"

"Just cold." She's still wondering why this requires cups on her head. Prescott made notes, but was overall disappointed nothing was happening yet. "Wait...I feel...prickling?" Prescott's eyes brightened. He readied his pencil. "Ooh! That's burning! Gah! Feels like my scalp is peeling!" She scratched at it. _Beep-beep-beep-beep!_ The device was going haywire. Cecelia's scalp was itching like mad. Prescott backed away. Then the beeping stopped. Cecelia's scalp stopped itching too.

"Well?" Prescott approached. Cecelia shrugged, leaning her head to him. He took a magnifying glass to spot the smallest change. What he saw was a couple of hair strands sprout. Not the result he was hoping for, but it was better than nothing. "Guess I can't complain. At least it _works._ " He sighed dismally, making notes under the improvement section. "Maybe if I add-"

 _BOOM!_ "AAAHHH…!" The two screamed. Cecelia's hair exploded from her scalp, growing rapidly and out of control, flooding the Gag Factory floor to ceiling. Horace and Clarabelle on a harmless stroll had the bell scared out of them by the white tufts of hair spilling from the creases and windows of the factory.

Prescott was pinned to a section of wall by a thick wallpaper of hair. "GRR! GOTTA JUST...LITTLE MORE…" Prescott gasped for air, splitting those ends off him. Sweet, blissful freedom. "Well...guess I can say it works." He groaned, rubbing his sore head. "A little too well." He choked on a wad of hair lodged in his throat. He wiggled wildly popping out and belly flopping to a patch of springy hair. He groaned dazedly then took few seconds here and there to admire how soft the hair was. And it smelt amazing. Like a bed of pure white lilies in bed of snow. "Uh-oh! CECELIA! WHERE ARE YOU?!" Ohh she isn't going to be happy.

" _Over here!_ " Came her muffled, if not irritated, reply. She sounded close.

"Where?! GRR!" Hair snagged his feet when he tried to fly. He hated to do this. He took a pair of scissor and cut the tendrils off. She's a rational girl. And there's a lot of hair here. She won't miss it. "Keep talking! I'm coming!"

" _Please hurry! It's hot in here!_ "

A little jungle music for the mood. Prescott cut the vines in his path, crawled under the logs supporting a massive collapse, and swung across of pit of forever matted knots. Ventureland had nothing on this. Cutting through the last patch, Prescott came face first with solid surface. "Ow…" The surface moaned. Prescott gawked dumbfounded. He hummed pensively at the thing he hit. It was shaped like a person. He poked at the forehead, then started patting it down and making out a figure. His fingers poked at some sides. "Hey! That tickles!"

"CECELIA!" Prescott tossed the scissors with glee. He peeled her head to chest like a banana, cringing at her very not amused leer. "Hee-hee...sorry!" He grinned innocently, rubbing the back of his head.

She spat hair in his face, completely lost for which spell would effectively send him to the moon. "At least...we know...it works!" She snarled through gritted teeth.

"Too well, ha-ha." He worked on loosening her from her locks, habitually stroking the long hairs lovingly. "But you know what?"

"What?!" She hissed impatiently. A mad blush spread to her cheeks. Prescott placed his forehead to hers. A warm and adorable smile on his lips, and that debonaire stare sent chills through her, subduing her previous irk. "W-What?!" She pouted.

"Short hair or long," Prescott cupped her cheeks, "You're as beautiful as the day I met you." He nuzzled his nose to hers, deepening her blush.

She can't stay mad at him now. "Aw. You sap…" She gushed. Her heart fluttered. Prescott brought her into a tender kiss. They'll take care of the hair later.

 **xxx**

 **(Dog Gone and Done It)**

Mickey was enjoying his time at home with his faithful dog Pluto. After his last venture to Wasteland, he's been taking time to spend spend a few days with his best pals, Donald and Goofy, and his girlfriend, Minnie. He's been to barbeques, the beach, beat Mortimer Mouse in the faulty property civil case. He felt as if he was having a homecoming jamboree that lasted for a week. He wasn't complaining. The two times he's gone to Wasteland made him really miss and appreciate what he has back home. His friends, his family, his own bed - The Cartoon World's worst problems are high traffic, chapped lips, lack of bandwidth, and expensive gas. No Blots, Blotlings, Mad Doctors to bring them down. Deciding to take a day and just be in bed with his dog by his side brought him to a thoughtful pause to soak it all in. He was going to savor these moments. Because he never knows when Wasteland will call on him again.

 _Trilling, trilling._ "Hrm…!" Pluto's ear shot up and he awoke to a harmonious jingling. He glanced around Mickey's room, searching for the source of the sound. Nothing was there, and the only noise was Mickey's snoring. Pluto curled back up on his rug and went back to sleep. _Trilling, trilling. Trilling, trilling,_ came the strange noise again. Pluto flipped to his paws, growling suspiciously of the noise. He definitely heard it, and demanded whoever it was to come out. If it was Mortimer again he was biting off more than just the back of his pants. _Trilling, trilling. Trilling, trilling._ The sound was taunting him. Mickey was fast asleep, sawing logs louder than his car's aged engine. Pluto sniffed the air for a stranger in, stalking into the hallway.

The trilling got louder as he came to the door. When he went into the hallway, though, the trilling grew quiet. He could hear it, but it wasn't anywhere in the living room or in the other parts of the house. Pluto itched the top of his head with his ear baffled, wondering what was causing that sound. It's not the phone, the TV, or even the strange weather rooster on the roof. What on earth could it be? He returned irritably to Mickey's room, believing he can simply ignore the sound and go back to sleep. _Trilling, trilling. Trilling, trilling._ Jolts shot to his back and he whipped around. The sound was coming from the mantle! From the mirror! He moved a foot stool over and climbed up. Aside from his and Mickey's reflection, nothing was out of the ordinary. Pluto was about to climb down when the mirror jiggled like jello, the trilling sound coming from it. He growled threateningly, ensuring not to bark so Mickey wouldn't wake up. He slapped the mirror with his paw. The glass swallowed his paw whole. Pluto yelped terrified, desperately pulling at his paw. He dug in his hind paws, pulling with all his might to get free. The mirror gave one last trill in a mocking snicker. It released Pluto's paw part of the way, letting the dog think he was free. Then it slurped him up whole, taking him thrashing legs in all, and spitting him out at a fireplace in a dimly lit hallway.

Pluto shot up dumbfounded by what just happened. In a panic he darted for the mirror, diving head first. Instead of a jiggly jello he smashed into a hardened liquid display. He collapsed into himself like an accordion, coming undone like a slinky down some stairs. A rather dismal tune came from him. He popped back into his original form, seeing loads of stars. He shook off the daze, whimpering pleadingly and scratching at the mirror to let him back in. He turned frightened to the corridor he was in. None of it smelled familiar. He crept on his toes, nervously heading for the arch ahead. Maybe there was another way out. Pluto sniffed the arch, then slowly poked his head around. In his bafflement he relaxed by the sight of a workshop greeting him. He knows this place. Mickey's told him about it in gory detail. To think he'd wind up there.

"Argh?" On the table. There was a diorama of sorts. Pluto scouted around for the owner of the workshop and his...granddaughter?...he believes Mickey called her. The grandfather, supposedly, is an unnerving man with a stare that can peel metal. The granddaughter is nice though. One of his best pals. Neither seemed to be around. Pluto crept inside, coming up to the diorama with multiple question marks around his head. A three dimensional landscape of a world resembling the amusement park Roy and Walt created. Not a bad likeness. This must be that place Mickey's been going to. Pluto kind of wondered if he could go in...but decided against it. He already doesn't know how he's getting out of here. Forget a world where Toons go to be forgotten.

As Pluto meandered for a flight of stairs, he heard the mirror trill and mock him again. Pluto huffed at it, not falling for it's rouse again. He walked into a piece of cloth. It ghosted over his eyes, blinding him. Pluto wildly shook his head, inadvertently tugging it and a bowl of blue paint. Pluto used his paw and shoved the dusty blue cloth off his face. He blew fabric from his nose, growling at it. He took another step and _splash_ the bowl of paint fell on him, giving soaking into his fur and eyes. Pluto thrashed about rampantly, dragging his face along every surface to get the vile liquid out of his eyes. He knocked books off the shelf, dropped beakers and bottle of highly temperamental chemicals - that miraculously survived. In his tirade he spilled a box of bird seed on himself and it stuck to the paint. Pluto slapped himself silly feeling the seed sink its way into his fur and eyes. He stumbled on his hind legs, barreling over a tub of brooms. He groan drearily. This was turning into a disaster.

Pluto lifted the bucket off him. Bristles tickled his nose. He sneezed and the water in his eyes made it possible to open them. He yelped and hid inside the bucket. His wide eye poked from the crease, the bucket quivering with him. The brooms from the bucket came to life, and were WAVING AT HIM. Brooms don't wave! Do they? These ones do. Then again, Mickey said the granddaughter and grandfather were powerful sorcerers. They must have bewitched the brooms. Pluto raised a curious brow when the brooms marched up a separate flight, picking up pairs of buckets. Pluto followed after them, bewildered by why they were scooping up buckets full of water. Whatever their reason, he needed a bath. He strutted over, happy as a clown. The brooms form a wall and tossed their buckets, dousing him ears to paws. The paint and seed washed off nicely. Pluto shook himself dry, thanking the brooms for the shower. Then they threw water on him again. Pluto choked on the water in his nose. The brooms wet him again, and again, and again. He was drowning in his own fur. A pool was at his feet.

The brooms filled their bucket for another round. "Grrr...BARK-BARK-BARK!" Pluto's ferocious barks stunned the brooms inanimate again, their buckets and selves rolling off a ledge into a pit. Pluto shook off gallons of water and tried to run away. He came smacked into a solid wall. The way was barred by a painting of the menacing brooms bowing at a magical hat. Pluto whimpered like he did at the mirror, pawing at the wall. "BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK!" No matter how loudly he barked, Pluto's only response was to himself. No one was there to save him. He just wanted to go home.

There were grates on the other end of the corridor. That pit was the only thing standing between him and finding a way out. He puffed his chest like a military dog. He can do this. Feeling brave, he knelt on his haunches, shaking his tail. The valiant pooch dared the two prong jump to the opposite side of the odd room, sliding and feeling like a boss on the landing. A powerful breeze was coming from the grate. The bars in place were snug, but Pluto managed to slip inside. He wandered in darkness for a ways. No light except for his eyes and the way he came in. He soon saw a light at the end of the tunnel and raced towards it. He saw the room her entered in and broke into a sprint. The floor suddenly opened beneath him. Pluto howled in fear as a slide carried him into the bowels of who know where.

The slide shot him off a small jump, sending the pooch flipping paws over head onto a winged contraption. Pluto moaned dizzily, begging the ride to be over. He shook the stars at his head away. There was something wrong with this place. The thin support cable keeping him at this flying machine above a three story drop was not helping his queasy stomach. This room full of books, charts of constellations, and stars engraved to the walls was succeeding in amplifying his altitude sickness. As luck would have it, there was a massive telescope below him. Cautiously he went onto the wing. He'd freeze whenever the contraption would start to swing. The loud creaks sent his heart racing. Unbeknownst to the dog, each of his steps was pulling at the prong imbedded in the ceiling, loosening it half a centimeter. Pluto was on the edge of the wing. The telescope just out of reach. The contraption was swinging already. He could use that. He pushed his weight down, giving the swing a little more momentum. Pluto waited for the wing to come full swing and he sprung. The prong was ripped out. Pluto landed to the telescope, then had his skeleton scared out of him by a crashing _BOOM!_ He peered down, cringing at the in shambles machine. He really needs to leave now. Before the owners get back home.

Pluto scrambled to the peak of the telescope, jumping to a long winding path along the wall. That tunnel sent him down so he ran up. Uniform marching brought Pluto to a screeching halt at the tunnel entrance. He squinted hard to peer past the unnatural darkness. A flash of water splashed in his face again. He was losing all humor to this. Good thing, because this was no joke. Pluto staggered back as an army of those brooms filed out, all carrying buckets filled to the brim with...water and grease. Two of the brooms poured the grease over Pluto. It wasn't coming off that easily. Pluto growled murderously, ready to piece them apart. He was turned into a frightened kitten by a looming shadow. The rest of the brooms tossed their water, creating a massive tidal wave. Pluto flipped a sign warning, ' _This won't be pleasant._ ' The water swept him away, taking him on another winding slide into a dark tunnel. He howled scared, begging for the ride to end. The harder he tried to stop, the faster he seemed to go. He closed his eyes, knowing this won't end well.

 **xxx**

Yensid and Cecelia returned to the workshop with their hands filled with groceries and supplies. They nearly dropped those supplies in horror of the mess that welcomed them. Paint everywhere, books and papers scattered, the beakers and jars a mess. It's like a tornado came through here. The two shared flabbergasted stares, neither knowing what happened and who was the one who cleaned. They immediately went to blame Wasteland, but it hasn't been active in months. Then they went to the brooms, only to find their bucket was empty.

"What in Fantasia happened here?" Yensid rumbled. A book case in the workshop slid to the side, revealing a small tunnel. Yensid and Cecelia ogled it curiously, hearing a strange noise coming from it. Pluto scared the groceries out of Cecelia's hand howling into the room. Yensid waved his hand, saving the supplies with a levitation spell. The two cringed at the bowling crash the pup made. Pluto struck a perfect strike in the art supply corner. Easels, brushes, and glitter falling on him. The grease soaking up the bristles and glitter. Pluto moaned defeatedly, not wanting to go on anymore rides. He sniveled at the glaring Yensid, and the strangely gawking Cecelia. He had a bad feeling of who those two were. "Who is this pup and how is he here?" Yensid demanded.

"That's Mickey's dog." Cecelia remarked. "The mirror must have brought him here." It does that from time to time.

"Blast this mirror!" Yensid set the supplies aside, picking up Pluto by the collar. He marched to the mirror, throwing a handful of magic at it. The mirror resisted but ultimately opened the way back to Mickey's world. Yensid leered at the pup, not won over in the least by his puppydog eyes or the lick to his cheek. Cecelia fawned with an _aww_. She choked it down at his glare. Yensid threw him in the mirror and that was that. "What a mess." He stormed off. "I'll be in the observatory."

"I'll get the brooms!" She called. "And refund on you!" She barked at the mirror. It wriggled teasingly. She should make sure Pluto made it okay.

 **xxx**

Mickey woke up for some much needed breakfast and went to his room to enjoy it. Eggs, waffles, orange juice, and a bowl of berries. He kicked his door open, a smile breaking across his face. "Hey, Pluto! Where've ya been boy?" He gleamed at the dog wrestling with a blanket over him. Pluto pried it off, startling Mickey to putting his breakfast aside. "PLUTO! What happened to ya?!" He ran his hands over him, curious of where all that gunk came from.

" _Blame this soon to be trashed home appliance._ " Cecelia waved dismally from the mirror. " _Hey, Mick._ "

"Cecelia?" He arched a perplexed brow.

Cecelia took a breath to explain. _"MY OBSERVATORY!"_ Yensid's howl from a distance shattered both Mickey and Cecelia. Even the mirror cracked a little. Mickey's were wide with terror. He glanced to Pluto who whimpered, then back to the mirror and Cecelia, putting it all together. Pluto got in trouble.

Cecelia wheezed through gritted teeth, her finger shakily erect to the warning that announced itself. "Yeah, Mick, make sure Pluto doesn't have a return trip." She pleaded before Yensid was given an excuse to make real hot dogs.

"Gotcha!" Mickey and Cecelia threw sheets over the mirrors. Mickey sneered at Pluto. He stopped his owner right there. He's innocent in all this.

 **xxx**

 **(Get Ready for a Marital RUMBLE)**

It was a lovely day in OsTown. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and- "OSWALD, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!" And...Ortensia and Oswald were arguing...ugh...again. That ear piercing screech of Ortensia's shook windows. Clarabelle, Clara, and Prescott poked their heads out. All of OsTown, including Jamface and Markus, came out to see what all the commotion was about. They instantly regretted those steps into the square. Streams of lightning surged between the heated glares of the The Lucky Rabbit and his Feline Sweetheart. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU FORGOT!"

Gus, Horace, Donald, and Daisy emerged from the Mickeyjunk Mountain projector, baffled by why everyone was gathered in the square. "I DIDN'T FORGET ANYTHING!" Oswald stomped that fact into the cement. He won't let her get away with placing all blame on him. Like she always does. "This is your fault!" The late to arrive four shared very confused and scared glances, then looked to the others for answers. The shrugs were unanimous. Everyone heard the screams, but not what caused them. "You're the one who kept changing the dates last second!"

"Only because you keep running off somewhere to go adventuring!" Mickey, and a teenage Cecelia were the last to arrive, and the last to be included in this heated squabble.

"I don't adventure! I'm fixing what the Thinner Disaster and Blot Invasion left behind!"

"FIX IT LATER!"

"I DID CHOOSE LATER!"

"NOT LATE ENOUGH!" They growled rabidly, colliding foreheads. Those sparks were flying in every direction. The clouds were even rolling in. Gus and Goofy wore raincoats in the event of heavy showers. Donald and Daisy firmly believed Ventureland was less volatile. Heck, Bog Easy during Mardi Gra with Madam Leona would be easier to handle.

"Umm…?" Mickey and Cecelia hummed for an answer.

"We don't have a clue." Gus, Jamface, and Prescott harmonized.

"Will someone please explain what's happening?!" Daisy begging, hands clapped together to the skies. Someone up there must know what's happening.

"I don't even know why you're yelling at me when you're the one that started this!" Oswald hollered again, adding to the suspense ready to make people riot.

"ME?!" Ortensia pressed affronted palms to her chest. He's seriously going to play innocent with her. "All of this started because...YOUR FORGOT OUR ANNIVERSARY!" _DUN-_ Donald and Daisy's jaws dropped, _DUN-_ Horace, Clarabelle, and Goofy mirrored the sensor monkeys, _DUN-_ Prescott and Cecelia hugged in fright!The crowd was stricken with terror. And not just because Jamface got a twisted sense of humor and played his musical sting soundtrack. Gus approved all the same, but urged the gremlin to put the radio away. Clara Cluck leapt into Horace's arms, nibbling on her nails frightfully. Clarabelle, needless to say, did not approve of her closeness in the least.

"I didn't forget anything!" Oswald swung an arm. She was being ridiculous as usual. Always jumping to conclusions without the full story. Like with her brother Homer being the schemer behind Oswald's accidents. "I had everything planned out and then you came at me yelling at the top of your lungs for no reason!"

"I had plenty of reasons! The main reason being you haven't paid any attention to me at all!" She stamped her feet in a childish tantrum. While Daisy can sympathize...no! There is no but here! Oswald is at fault. The boyfriend usually is! He should apologize. Donald was nervous when she leered at him. He had no counter argument since he's forgotten anniversaries.

"Thank the Guardians our anniversary isn't for another seven months." Prescott hovered beside Cecelia, leaning to her shoulder.

She clamped to his hand, nuzzling her head to his neck. "Please let's not end up like them." She whimpered.

"Deal." He kissed her forehead.

"You're always disappearing, always off on adventures, and leaving me to be the stereotypical housewife!" The cooking, the cleaning, raising the kids on her own. All the while putting together relief organizations for those who haven't gotten back into the swing of things since their last two disasters. "Do you have any idea how tired I am?"

"Probably not nearly as tired as I am!" Oswald scoffed, directing thumb at him. "I'm the Leader of Wasteland! I'm called all over to boost morale and lend help where it's needed!" And it will keep him from home for days at a time. "The farthest you've been called is across the street!" Ortensia went seething red.

 _DING!_ A little hammer hit a little bell. "AND ROUND ONE GOES TO OSWALD FOR THAT CLEVER COMEBACK!" Jamface gave the play by play from a podium near the Oswald and Mickey statue. He had on the hat, suit, and rectangular glasses to fit into the announcer's role. "Ortensia is left speechless in the stab, but has yet to falter! How will she react? Will she hit below the belt? What do you think, Mademoiselle Daisy?" He passed on the mic to his co-host.

"Well, Jamface, in all my years of knowing both Ortensia and Oswald, this promises to be a drawn out and entertaining argument." Ortensia and Oswald stalked in circles around each other like predators, feeding off the dramatic music coming from Gus, Donald, and Goofy. "These two are equally stubborn and know every quirk and fault the other has. What determines the winner is…" She stomped one foot to the podium, exaggeratedly lifting the mic to her beak, "Which one will abandon all morals to put the other in their place? Oswald already struck a critical blow."

"Indeed and we all felt that sting!" Jamface winced. "Let us divert to Prescott and Cecelia with the weather! Lovebirds!" He diverted to the couple hovering above the action. Prescott with his fluttering feet, and Cecelia on a cloud she conjured.

"There's a storm brewing, Jamface, and it promises to be a hurricane!" Prescott bellowed adamantly.

"We've got 40 mile an hour insults with a high chance of heavy showering personal blows!" Cecelia added, leaning to Prescott's head.

"The temperature may be cool, but things are HEATING UP FAST! And are guaranteed to get hotter!" He swung a fist. The two came together and chimed, "Back to you!"

"Alright then!" Jamface pushed the hat forward, edging into the action. "Back to our regularly scheduled drama." During that intermission, Clara brought popcorn and sodas for everyone.

"Admit it, Oswald! You keep leaving to avoid me!" Ortensia pulled teeth.

"I love you! I'd never avoid you on purpose!" He earned brownie points from Daisy and Cecelia with the _I love you._ Prescott, Mickey, and Donald, however, sensed the BUT coming a mile away. "Besides, I ask you to come along, but you choose to stay home and garden and eat bon-bons!"

"UGH! I do not eat bon-bons all the time!" She folded her arms, pouting her lower lip. "Sometimes I eat truffles." Oswald's whole brow collapsed in a gorilla scowl. While the men in the audience failed to see the difference, the women folk showed them diagrams highlighting the contrasts of the desserts. It all made sense now. "And I can't drop everything like you can. Too much time away from home is bad for a relationship!" She countered stubbornly.

"She has a point there." Daisy agreed.

"And you're a horrible influence on our kids!" Ortensia's words were a bolt to his heart. He clamped hands to his chest, absolutely disgusted she said such a thing. Everyone's jaws, save for Mickey and Cecelia, slackened completely gobsmacked.

"How am I the bad influence?! I'm a hero!"

"A hero who shirks all responsibility and uses his title to get out of housework!"

"OH AND ORTENSIA REGAINS GROUND FAST!" Daisy clawed at her scalp. Such a flawless execution. "Dad is gone, leaving Mom to do all the work! A cliche if ever I heard one!"

Cecelia descended and covered the mic. Mickey climbed onto her head and they whispered to Jamface and Daisy, "Their kids?" They didn't even realize those two had kids. Not even Mickey and he's been to Wasteland twice.

"Wee. They have one, two, carry the ten…" Jamface needed Daisy's fingers to count. Mickey and Cecelia were dumbstruck when they reached 20 and multiplied by 10, "Four hundred and twenty bunny/cat children."

Mickey and Cecelia's eyes literally became dots and their mouths hung agape. A hollow wind brushed past, carrying with it utter disbelief, and the number four hundred and twenty through their ears in big, bold letters. Their necks craned like rusty joints. Shaky fingers pointed in Ortensia's direction. Prescott lowered the fingers. "Sometimes it's best not to ask."

"I'm so glad Minnie wants to hold off on kids." Mickey droned weakly.

"I'm not sure if I want them now." Cecelia's voice cracked. Daisy and Jamface snickered under their breath. Children in love.

"You've only offered to take me once! And that one time I say no and you assume I won't want to ever!" Ortensia continued. "It's because you assume that we end up in bad situations! You never think anything through!" Cecelia, Mickey, Donald, and Horace stifled gasps and looked away. She got him there.

"Ho-ho, the rabbit is in the deep trouble!" Jamface rumbled ominously. Gus rolled a deep tone drum for affect.

"YEAH?! Well...you...gah...oh boy!" Oswlad's tongue was in knots. He broke into a sweat, rubbing at his neck.

"He's stammering!" Prescott cirnged.

"He's losing his edge!" Cecelia weaved back.

"Can he recover?" Jamface cowered behind the table. No way was Oswald going to go down like this. Least of all when none of this should be on him at all. Time for him to bring out the big guns. The one solid piece of evidence that will bring this to a close. He snickered under his breath. "OOH, HE JUST GOT A TWINKLE IN HIS EYE!"

"A twinkle means a plan!" Daisy was on the edge of her seat.

"An underhanded plan!" Gus included menacingly.

"What's it gonna be?" Prescott muttered. Everyone came in, listening to find out.

Oswald folded his hands behind his back, taking in a slow breath to calm his buzzing nerves. "If you recall, Ortensia.." He itched his nose, mapping it all out in his head, "YOU made ME sleep on the couch last night."

"Yeah! And?" She failed to see his point.

"You're the one who should have slept there!" Oohs reverberated from the crowd, eyes coasting to Ortensia.

"Why?" She scoffed.

Oswald ripped his hands out and showed her a calendar. "Because YOU forgot OUR anniversary! NOT ME!" _WAH-WAH-WAAH!_ Another musical sting bringing a three pan zoom on a the circled and hearted date. Gasps of the stunned came from all around.

"No I didn't!" Ortensia fervently denied.

"Oh yeah? Here!" He threw a calendar at her. The precise month smacked her in the face. She peeled it off, glaring at the calendar. What she saw made her lose color. "You screamed at me yesterday morning because you thought our anniversary was today! Check again!" She swallowed a massive lump. The date for thursday wasn't it. But the one for tomorrow on Saturday...she went stone cold. "That's right, SADIE!" He thrust an accusing finger. "Our anniversary wasn't yesterday. Not even today. IT'S TOMORROW!" The words echoed like a gunshot, shattering Ortensia to billions of pieces.

"OOOHHH!" The crowd roared.

"AND A ROLE REVERSAL ON A TIMELESS CLICHE!" Jamface and Daisy barked.

"SHE forgot an anniversary?" Clarabelle gasped. Clara clucked in outrage. Cecelia was left speechless too. "Why that sets an all new tone for anniversaries everywhere!"

"Woof!" Prescott, Donald, and Mickey felt the breeze on that one. Ortensia was wobbly, sickly groaning, and then collapsed with no fight left. "WHOA!"

"AND SHE'S DOWN!" Daisy and Jamface screamed.

"OSWALD WINS!" Cecelia and Prescott cheered. Then they cringed, realizing this was not something to cheer over. Prescott burst her cloud and she rode him to a safe landing.

Oswald ran over and propped her up, fanning her off. "You alright?!" He panicked, brushing the backs of his fingers to her face.

"I'll be fine, but…" She moan with such disgust for herself. "I can't believe I mixed up the dates."

"Well, you've been busy."

"With what?!" Ortensia doesn't adventure, doesn't help with the clean up. She hasn't done anything to warrant how she's treated Oswald.

Oswald took her cheek in his hand, bringing her to meet his loving gaze. "Being the best wife, mother, and Queen Wasteland and I could ever ask for." Oswald planted a kiss to her lips, snuggling his forehead to hers. "I love you, Ortensia. Regardless of our anniversary date."

"Aww…" She melted in his arms.

"AAWW…" Cecelia, Daisy, Clara, and Clarabelle huddled close.

"Blegh…" The rest of the males gagged on the mush. Cecelia and Daisy threw mud at their boyfriends while Clarabelle and Clara housed down Mickey, Jamface, Gus, and Horace.

Oswald laughed at his friends, then picked up his girl like the bride she was. "Whaddya say we kick the anniversary into high gear early? I've got a spot in Tomorrow City that'll make your eyes sparkle. More than they do now." He added with a debonair wriggle of the brow. He crushed the hearts of the women folk, dropping them in the boy's arms.

Ortensia wrapped her arms around his neck, rubbing their noses together. "I'd like that." Oswald's ears revved into overdrive and off they flew into the morning sun.

"They're so cute!" Daisy fawned.

"I know!" Clarabelle batted hearts in her eyes.

"They kill me!" Cecelia blushed. Clara clucked her heart out, swooning in Cecelia's arms. Clarabelle pulled a box of tissues, and she and the rest of the women folk wept with boundless joy.

The guys stayed off to the side, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes. In unison they said, "Women."

 **Yay, fun.**

 **To be continued.**


	13. Sabotage

**Sabotage**

 **Hey, guys, I'm back. Time to move forward.**

 **xxx**

"Are you certain of this?! I cannot risk any misinformation!" The Mad Doctor fumed.

"I'm tellin' ya it's all abuzz from yer ears in duh caverns! The Rabbit and Kitten ain't gettin' on good and friendly these days! He's defendin' you, she's defendin' dat gremlin she's crushin' on. It's an all out war between 'em!"

"You don't say…" He cooed.

This is an unprecedented turn of events. Yet a very foreseeable outcome were one to gaze from a different perspective. Oswald, who was so ready to send Mickey to the gallows for the Thinner Disaster, direly forcing his leaf to turn anew and begin handing out second chances to the masses. Even one such as The Mad Doctor. The past friendship they shared is what leads this foolish rabbit by the leash, and will be all the more delicious when he is hung with it. As for Cecelia, well, she would be heartbroken if the gremlin love of her life turned to be a naughty gremlin villain. Why it just might shatter like it did a year ago. And this time, from her love being squashed, it will stay shattered, leaving her a shell.

"This is too delicious!" He was drool ravenously. He anticipated the arrival of Mickey and Cecelia even before the first quake hit. Those goody goodies cannot resist lending their aid to their precious friends. But an all out civil war between two of the heroes from the Second Blot War? Whilst Wasteland looks to them for support, structure, and courage in these desperate times? The Mad Doctor might as well blow on this wavering house of cards and see if they'll fall. Ha-Ha! If these goes on, well, the merry band of Wasteland will start to lose focus. Their efforts will cripple, and eventually the people and land will gradually begin to suffer. "Ah...hmm…?" A twisted grin stretched ear to ear. "Maybe this does need a little _nudge_."

"How do ya think?"

"If the kitty and rabbit wish to be at each other's throat," He stroked his neck, dancing the tips on the veins, "Let us provide the nooses from which they can strangle themselves." He cackled. "You go to Oswald in Bog Easy. He's pouring his bunny heart into fixing The Haunted Mansion. I shall go to the Kitty Cat. I believe she will be at the substation."

 **xxx**

Mickey, Cecelia, Oswald, and Gus - through thick, thin, falling debris of The Gulch, and the equally dangerous sides of Rainbow Caverns, the merry band of heroes persevered past every obstacle the quake riddled Wasteland had to throw at them. Blotinglings, beetleworx, a massive robot version of Pete the Dragon. All that turmoil just to save The Mad Doctor's worthless hide. Honestly, if Oswald hadn't asked none of them would have lifted a finger for him. Sometimes being best friends with someone is too complicated. On the bright side, and possibly the best side, is that their work returned life to Wasteland's projectors. The projectors are working again! The people of Wasteland can rest easy now knowing they can traverse the world through the projectors again instead of going through those tunnels. WOO-HOO! WOO-HOO! WOO...hoo. Yeah. The vibe was divided by the strictest of opposites. One the one side are the average people of Wasteland whose lives crumbled with their world in the quake and haven't been able to pick themselves up. On their own, anyway. On the other side are Oswald, Ortensia, and Gus, who offered arms and legs they didn't really have to carry people on their way. The arrival of Mickey and Cecelia lightened their load, but did not unburden them of the weight that rests on their shoulders.

One would think Oswald, Mickey, Gus, and Cecelia would be celebrating with everyone else. Toasting with shakes at the ice cream parlor, singing merry songs on the rooftops, having a party on both halves of Meanstreet. No. The four heroes weren't cheering or partying in the least. They just...kept to themselves. Brooding in silence. Yeah, don't get them wrong, they're overjoyed that the projectors are working again. But what Jamface said really stuck with them. The Projectors went down before the quake even hit. The substation damaged and left for the quake to finish as a scapegoat for the saboteur to elude capture. Jamface knows as much about the projectors as Prescott. If he says there's foul play afoot, then there's foul play. The question is, how did the substation actually fail? Might it have been an accident? Was the failure actually the cause of a person? These have to be answered. Eventually.

Now is a time for relaxation and reflection. Finding out what caused the substation to go down is a huge deal. But it's something that can be put off until the atmosphere isn't so agitated. Wasteland hasn't had the projectors working since the main quake hit. Families and friends scattered across the world, unable to to see one another. Times like this are of the utmost importance. It might be beneficial to take a moment and revel in this one victory. Oswald, Mickey, and Cecelia are the faces of the land. Darting off now on an adventure yet to be finished would only deplete the fragile morale of the people. They need to join in the festivities, and take in the sweet breath of bliss emanating from the cheering masses. Go off and have a little fun while the getting is good. And it is a very good thing the heroes have their own ways of relaxing in times of peace. Right now, Mickey and Gus are putting an end to a marathon of chess. 23 games to 23.

"Alright, Mickey, you have been a worthy adversary." Gus cackled menacingly. Amazingly enough, no one in the ice cream parlor was batting them an eye. "But the end is nigh!" He stooped low to a chessboard that was very one sided. Mickey was down to his last few pieces. Three pawns, two knights, and one Bishop. Gus was down both rooks, his queen, and a few pawns. Other than that, control of the board was his. Mickey was nibbling on the end of his brush, seeing no way to escape the trap Gus was pushing him into. He can thin a Blot but he can't think a good chess play. "You may wave the white flag whenever you like."

"Not happening! I can still pull through this!" Mickey declared. He just has to think. Gus welcomed him to think as long as he likes. He has nowhere important to be. Mickey reached for his knight, then moved for a pawn, then tried for his bishop. The board wasn't making any sense to him. He thinks he has a strategy, then loses it in translation. No matter what way he goes he ends up either leaving the king exposed or creates a checkmate box. There's no safe way to do this. So he'll take the coward's way out. He moved his king back one.

Gus plucked a bishop and set it down with no effort and shouted, "Checkmate!" He thrust his ice cream up in victory. Mickey splashed his face into his banana split, gurgling in misery. "And that, my boy, is 24 games. I win!" Bubbles in the ice cream popped with Mickey's moans. He was so close. "And as the winner, the favor is mine. I say we pick a place in Wasteland and go help with repairs." The deal of these 24 games was, whoever reached 24 wins would be able to ask a favor of the other and that person has to agree. In Gus's case, he wants Mickey's help in restoring small portions of their home.

Mickey picked his ice cream dripping face up. He lapped his tongue to the whole, creating a sundae on his tongue with a cherry on top. In swallowing the dairy treat, a brain freeze gave him a good idea. "Let's go fix the fountain and put an end to the spouting thinner in OsTown." Ever since the quake hit, thinner has been flooding and spraying from whatever cracks it can find. OsTown's statue of Mickey and Oswald was a regular fountain of thinner. The pressure below was merciless.

"Sounds like a capital idea!" Gus praised, swinging a fist. The pieces of the statue were swept away by the thinner, taken into the bowels of OsTown and swallowed by an ocean of thinner. If he recalls correctly, he heard from Small Pete that, in spite of the initial mess their turning on the substation did, the returned flow to the piping pumped out the thinner. The substation pipes that power the projector aren't unlike veins in the body, or plumbing in a house. Power to the projectors flows through many internal systems that, when disrupted, can cause blockages and other problems. That being said, it should be possible for them to go into the bowels of OsTown and retrieve the statue pieces.

"Where's Oswald and Cecelia? He'll want to help out."

"I believe Cecelia is with Ortensia having a spa date. And Oswald is off in Bog Easy helping Madam Leona with an important task." Those two are thick as girlfriend thieves. They've taken to gossiping, giggling, and reveling in their love lives. Oswald's starting his restoration of Wasteland with the lands that were hit the hardest. Ventureland lived in thinner even before the quakes. Not much was damaged there. Bog Easy, however, has been on a rocky scale. "He'll be tied up for a while." "But I should be able to help with any electrical problems that come."

"Then let's get going!" Mickey inhaled the rest of his sundae. The pair thanked the shopkeeper and ran out, leaping headlong into the OsTown projector.

 **xxx**

The Haunted Mansion hasn't been so haunted since the projectors went down. With no one able to come and partake in the attraction, the Ghost Brothers went off in their own directions. Leaving Leona to mind the castle on her own. Which she did from her stasis inside her crystal ball. No sense in exerting herself when the brothers are gone. No sense in really doing anything these days. When the quake hit, it sort of caused the manor to fall to pieces. It killed her spirit. So to speak. She's already a spirit. Forget the semantics! Point is, whatever ties Leona has to the world began to fade when he home fell into ruin. All of that fresh air blowing in from the hung open wounds of gaps in the mansion was torture. The ominous lights usually kept her sane. They had a mysterious, netherworld air about them. The quake did away with those too. No Ghost Brothers to keep her company, her home falling apart, and now her favorite lighting. Yeah, she was dying twice.

"Stop being so dramatic, Leona! We're almost done!" Oswald scolded the perpetually moaning spirit. Seriously, working on the eerie lighting with only her glowing green hide as light was hard enough without her complaining. Her swaying side to side like a lost buoy wasn't helping any. Oswald even moved her into the basement so she would feel more at home and away from the fresh air. Though it seems like she could use some. The basement was dark, musty, moist, and had a really foul smell. What ghosts see in a place like this. "Okay...one more little twist…" Oswald pulled a screwdriver from his work belt, finishing the link between the array of lights. "And...DONE! Copernicus, hit the switch!" The gremlin gave a thumbs up. He crossed his fingers and flicked the lights flickered and fizzled, then an ultra violet hue cast itself throughout the basement. Winding links of the ultraviolet lights came on in a domino effect, returning an eerie life to the dank and daunting basement. Pools of questionable water at the bottom, cobwebs covered in spiders at the top, long forgotten crates and furniture, and the Mardi Gras decorations that shaped like ghoulish faces. Those scared Copernicus into Oswald's arms. He laughed nervously at Oswald's deadpanned stare. He pretended to blush at how muscular he is, and was dropped like a sack of potatoes. "Whaddya think, Leona? This work?" He gestured to the work he was very proud of.

"Oh yes! Thank the spirits of wasteland you came when you did!" Leona materialized a pair of sunglasses, basking in the radiance of her eerie shade. Oswald dare not touch on the need of sunglasses. She just came out of her funk. "I thought I was gonna die if I didn't have these lights back! And the basement! Thank goodness it survived! Perfect for a dead spirit to toil in!" The irony and redundancy was too much to bear. Oswald wrapped his ears to his face. "Thank you very much, Oswald. ANd perhaps with this those miserable Ghost Brothers will come home." She says miserable as a term of endearment. Truth is, she values them greatly. "How are they by the way? I heard they've taken to odd jobs to keep themselves busy."

"You heard right." Oswald jumped to her. He picked her up from the box she was on and moved her to her pedestal. "Ian is running Blot Alley and Fort Wasteland, managing the Spatters and other Blotlings left behind." He appointed himself their caretaker. Seeing as Ghosts can't be killed or made inert, Ian bridged the gap and bonded with the little guys. Like the Blotlings, ghosts get a bad rep too. He used that as his baseline for caring for them. "Tedworth's in Mean Street South helping Horace as his assistant." That one he went hoarse on, rubbing his neck nervously. "Though rumor is things aren't going smoothly." Leona shook her head with a tender laugh. Tedworth may be the more calm of the brothers, but he does go overboard. "Gilbert and the rest I hear are still here in Bog Easy helping fix what they can. They haven't stopped since the manor broke down. Someone see's them getting pieces to help build the place back up."

"It's nice to know they haven't forgotten about this place." Leona remarked softly.

"Fineas said they're doing it for you, mostly." At this Leona was stunned. If she had a heart, or chest, it would be thumping. "The Ghost Brothers love you, Leona. They sang to break you from your hysteria last year. And they stayed by you when The Blot took over." Leona blushed happily. She does tend to take them for granted time to time. "They'd never forget you or this place. They just went to stretch their wings so they wouldn't be flipped upside down with the rest of Wasteland."

"In that case, Oswald, I am proud of those boys." She decreed gleefully. "And I am pleased that they are not letting this travesty slow them down. I can't wait to here what they've done when they return."

"You're in for a heck of a tale, Lady Leona! I promise you that!"

"Most assuredly!" She giggled. "Thank you for helping with my home."

"Of course. This place is important to me and all of Wasteland. I wouldn't leave you or it in this state. I just we can build it back up before the heavy rains come again."

"Oh don't you worry. Copernicus and his gallant band of handy-gremlins have been fixing the house in sections. Floor to roof so that at least one part will be protected from the weather."

"And we should be finished in record time!" Copernicus inserted himself. He sprayed glass cleaner to Leona, giving her a dazzling polish. "The wood and glaze we're using will make this mansion gleam like new, and won't decay in the rain. Not even The Blot himself could rot the foundation."

"Thank you so much." Leona bowed her head. She can't begin to put into word how greatful she is to the people who have helped her rebuild her home. "Copernicus, continue your good work. You as well, Oswald."

"Yes, Ma'am!" The two saluted. They let Leona have some alone time and climbed out of the basement. She snuggled in her little ball and drifted off to sleep. "Such good boys."

 **xxx**

Meanwhile, in OsTown, the quake actually had one positive effect on Clara Cluck's home. This giant hole was opened in her backyard, cracked open some fresh water piping. On top of that, beyond anyone's knowledge, the minerals in the soil turn out to be very healthy for the skin. This was an opportunity of a lifetime she couldn't pass up. Cecelia's magic wasn't up to its usual snuff, but she was able to cast a purifying spell on the water to make the water less muddy looking, and preserve the minerals within. Clarabelle Cow and Ortensia whipped up instant heat baking soda caps and tossed them inside. The water broke into a boil in seconds. Animatronic Daisy brought over different beauty products for they to fiddle with while they lounge. A quick toe test revealed it was safe for bodies to enter. Clarabelle and Ortensia won't be bashful in admitting those were a pain to concoct. They're originally meant to make baking and cooking simpler when ovens aren't available. Cooking and hard labor aside, the girls threw on some swimsuits and jumped in, lying back on innertubes and lounge floaties. Their troubles and woes melting in the quake caused sinkhole. A silver lining if ever they came across one.

"This...is...amazing!" Clarabelle mulled, lying flat to her lunge floatie. Clara clucked in agreement, legs folded in her floating chair. Spatters living with Clarabelle handed out tall glasses of ice cold lemonade with little umbrellas. They were thanked and sent on their way. Cecelia tried to ignore them sneering at her. They aren't fans of one of the two people responsible for their master's defeat. Which is fin. She doesn't like them either.

"Sure takes stress of the old spine!" Daisy stretched, free floating with floaties on her ankles and wrists.

"It's really life changing!" Ortensia flushed, drifting on her inner tube. "Makes you forget we're in the middle of a crisis." The way she said crisis was similar to talking about a paradise. Given what everyone's endured, they are in paradise. "I'm glad we can all take this moment to enjoy it."

"You said it." Cecelia lazed on a noodle. "Thanks for inviting me along, girls. I really needed this." She raised her lemonade.

"Of course. We're glad you could come." Ortensia swooned. "Must be nice to get away from the heroics and relax with the ladies for once."

"Amen, sister." They tapped glasses and took a drink. "I love the boys, but I really don't have that girl time anymore." She's constantly surrounded by the guys trying to keep them alive. "I was scared I had man stench on me."

"Ooh! Garish!" Clarabelle cringed. "I find that I sometimes smell like Spatters I spend so much time with them." Clara clucked of a same instance with her bird feed. She was starting to smell like a chicken, if anyone can believe that. Clarabelle and the others cleared their throat, feeling it best to not respond.

"Oh I feel the same way when I'm sailing with Donald in Ventureland." Daisy shooed that ship ride away in disgust. "That salty thinner air is horrendous for my complexion! And my hair is always full of split ends by the time we dock!" Clara took a magnifying glass to those ends. IT WAS HORRIFYING! She immediately applied a hair remedy that needs to be left in for...the bottle says...three hours. To be done four times daily.

"Thankfully, with the projectors up, I was able to get this from Medusa in Ventureland!" She held up a box of bath salts. _Pure Nature Breeze bath salts._ She poured them in, watching them dissolve and turn the water a pine green. An aroma wafted from the steam into their nostrils. Uniform adulated sighs moaned, the women melting like ice cream in the sun. They could stay in there forever. "The life…"

"The life…" Ortensia and Daisy moaned.

"The life…" Cecelia and Clara breathed.

"Still, I'm sorry to bring this up," Ortensia broke the bliss with a worried look, "But are we sure the substation will remain standing? Didn't the quake hit it hard?" He worries became Clara and Clarabelle's worries. Cecelia's ear folded back, unease glossing her eyes. "What if the projectors fail again?"

Cecelia crippled under Ortensia, sighing audibly in trouble. "I really shouldn't be telling you this, but it's too important." The four women ogled her apprehensively. Cecelia floated in close, prompting the others closer. She looked around for spies, listened for anyone too close, then whispered, "Jamface told us that the projectors went down before the quake even hit."

"They what?" Ortensia gasped. Clara's beak fell open.

"How?" Clarabelle rasped, drinking in this juicy gossip.

"No clue." She was sad to say. That's what they wanted to find out before The Doc called for help in the Gulch. "If the substation was damaged before the quake hit, it may be a separate incident...or…" She trailed off sheepishly, too frightened to finish.

"No…" Ortensia read her mind, going pale. "You don't think someone sabotaged the projectors, do you?" Clarabelle and Clara shuddered to fathom such a thing.

"I don't know what to think. Spatters are serving lemonade," Delicious lemonade she might add, "One of the masterminds behind The Blot is HELPING rebuild Wasteland." With the same machines he used to destroy it. "Big Bad is in charge of City hall. And I heard a rumor Captain Hook isn't pirating anymore?" She stressed to Daisy.

"That's no rumor. He gave up the pirating life after suffering not one, but two, humiliating defeats." She spun dramatically like she was spinning a story for her news cast. She made a mental note to use that in the future. "And I don't blame you for being turned upside down by the polar life choices. I almost gave up being an anchor." The others deadpanned skeptically. _Right, and Horace took up knitting instead of being a detective._ "Point is, a lot has changed since you and Mickey were here last. But I can see where you'd have your doubts. I don't like The Mad Doctor around anymore than you."

"Isn't Small Pete is looking into the substation?" Clarabelle asked.

"Yeah…" Cecelia checked the time. It was only noon, and Small Pete begins his look around two. "And I said I'd be down there to give him a hand." She climbed out and dried herself off. She figures if she leaves now she'll beat him there. Even she can't get lost using the D.E.C to the caverns.

"Why would you agree to help him out?" Daisy questioned, put off by that willing choice. Helping a Pete with anything can be hazardous.

"I figure that's a good a place as any to work on what little magic I have in me. Besides, I want to know what happened."

Heads bobbed in understanding. A small few, gradually increasing, are learning that Cecelia's magic isn't what it used to be. Ortensia ensured to not say it was stolen. Just that she wasn't feeling well as of late. "Just be careful."

"I will." As proof she has some pinasch left, Cecelia gave them a twirl, transforming out of her swimsuit and into her uniform. She gave them her cutest smile, assuaging their worries of her magical handicap. "See you all soon. And thanks again." She was waved off. She jumped over the gate into the main street. "Huh?" Stone heads of Mickey and Oswald were lying in the sinkhole. She wondered how they got there. They were supposed to have been swallowed up. "Stranger things have happened." She muttered. He curiosity was distracted by heated grumbling come from across the way. Prescott was fluttering in a rage to the Gag Factory. _Maybe he has the answers I need!_ "Prescott, hey, can I talk to you for a moment?!"

Prescott paused at the door, his demeanor brightening at her presence. And turning a little green. "Sure." Cecelia stepped beneath the awning of the front door, touching a hand to Prescott's glove. A bolt from the blue struck savagely within her. Her heart pulsated in her ear. She stopped with a gasp, shivering as if trapped in a blizzard. _That feeling again._ This happened last time. A powerful essence looming within the Gag Factory. It was...familiar...so familiar. _My...magic?_ "What's the matter?" His hand to her forehead shocked her back to her senses, send her head into a loop. "You lost color for a moment. Your head is wet, too. Are you getting a cold?"

"No! No! Nothing like that! I was just in a hottub with Ortensia for too long!" Her voice cracked.

"I've warned you about that." Prescott groaned in reprimand. "Remember what happened at the hotsprings in Tomorrow City?"

Cecelia turned as red as her eyes. "L-Like you were complaining! You were so eager to mouth to mouth resuscitation me!" Prescott chuckled pervertedly. She thinks so ill of him. All he did was cradle his lady very closely, take in the sight of her vulnerable state, and lightly breathe life into her. Despite her not drowning, just passed out from heat exhaustion. "STOP THAT!" She turned even redder.

"Stop what, dear~? I don't know what you mean." He folded his arms, playing the innocent. "And you're so red. Whatever could be the matter?"

"YOU...KNOW...EXACTLY WHAT-" Her childish stomping and tirade were effectively ceased by a deep kiss. Prescott snaking a hand along her tail, smirking as she whimpered. He broke the kiss, savoring her labored breath. "You...cheater."

"Aren't I?" He teased, stroking the backs of his fingers to her cheek.

 **xxx**

Mickey and Gus road the platform to a cavern just beneath the D.E.C tunnel. As Gus anticipated, much of the thinner was drained from the underlying tunnels. A good sign. The thinner seeping underneath Wasteland was causing sinkholes and the like all across the regions. OsTown was especially in the crosshairs for worse damage than it has faced. A bit of thinner constantly spraying to Mickey's House was tolerable. No one would recover if their homes were swallowed under the earth.

Much of the cavern was still flood with bubbling thinner. Devices imbedded to the walls were swirling with thinner that is being pumped into different areas around Wasteland, draining to who knows where. A pit, the bottomless sea of fog outside. Either way, there is less damage to be feared from. The gremlins built these devices to help maintain a balance within the caverns, ease the flow of thinner so incidents like this would never happen. Clearly from the thinner pool tickling the edge of the pool brim, the plumbing still suffered from kinks. Piping snaking the walls were thinned out a certain sections. Gus placed a hand to the painted pipes, startled that they were so cold. They haven't been running in a while. Meaning what's meant to drain the remaining thinner was malfunctioning.

"The controls to restore power down here are in that room there." Gus informed. Of course he meant the door in the top corner on the farthest side of the room past the pool of thinner. Oh, and look, no direct path to it save for jumping and climbing. Mickey wishes that, just once, it be easy. What's he ever done to not have it easy? No sense in griping about it. It would be easier for Gus to just carry him, but he may have thrown out his back during the fight with the dragon. It was killing him waiting for Mickey on the other side.

Mickey painted in the first set of pipes on the wall to his right. They buzzed with power, feeding into the thinner filled cylinder. Two platforms elevated in and out of the thinner. Bubbles emerged around where they would submerge. Mickey timed his jumps, making it to the stone ledge across the way. He painted in the second set of pipes leading into a dead end, then the next that crossed to the door that they need. He climbed up on them, his back pressed to the wall, sliding cautiously along. Clamps hold the large pipes to the wall stood in his way. Mickey slipped around, one foot after the other. The pipe slipped from his toe. "WHOA!" Mickey clung half his body to the piping, his feet kicking desperately above the plummet to a thinner demise.

"MICKEY!" Gus flew to him, ignoring the pain in his back. He interlaced his fingers under Mickey's foot.

Mickey pushed off the hands, scrambling safley - term used loosely - to the large pipe. His little head was pounding. Beads of sweat soaking his black fur. "Th-thanks...Gus…" Mickey panted, crawling on all fours. Gus moved along with him, ensuring Mickey doesn't take another spill. Mickey made it to the door, dropping to his hands and knees, fighting to regain his breath. And most of his nerves. Too winded to speak, he motioned for Gus to get the door open.

An access port for Oswald's remote guarded the door. Gus was confident he can handle a simple hack. He opened the back, and did a fiddle here, a tweak there, and the door's locking mechanisms opened all too agreeably. "There we are! That there will drain out the rest of our thinner pool disaster." Mickey cringed hearing _Thinner Disaster_. "Sorry, my boy." Mickey shook it off by focusing on the mission at hand. A pressure plate and a second access port waited on the other side. Mickey rushed to the plate. Ardent trills played at the door being secured open. Gus came in, taking a more mindful approach to accessing the panel. "Okay, let's see. Just cross the blue wire with the purple wire find the quotient of pie and VIOLA!" He threw his hands up in Eureka. The access port powered up, and the room flushed the thinner like a giant toilet. "Ah-ha! Good show!" Progress on top of progress.

Mickey inched cautiously off the pressure pad, exhaling that nothing bad happened. He went to admire the cleaning they. Wasteland was really coming back together. "Gus, look!" He spotted two statue pieces. "Pieces of the statues! Let's get 'em up top!"

"Those transport tubes will help us do just that." Gus addressed the powerful wind pipes on the ground. They sucked in stray scraps of metal and trash the thinner didn't take with it. "They'll take whatever statue pieces we find and shoot them on up to OsTown."

"Then let's get to it! And with more of the thinner flushed we might find more pieces."

Which brings Cecelia to be baffled by statue pieces in the street.

 **xxx**

Prescott and Cecelia belayed their current tasks to speak over some of his special tea. Soothes the soul and washes out the systems. Cecelia filled him in with gory detail on what they learned while on their way to the substation. "The substation went down before the quake, huh?"

Cecelia's jaw slacked stunned. _Huh,_ he said. Who is this and what had he done with her Prescott. Needless to say, it was beyond remarkable how well he was taking this. The last time someone messed with the projectors, he was possessed by some sort of demon and was frothing at the mouth. He even spoke in tongues. Right now Cecelia thought she told him a particular paint dried faster than another.

"Jamface says that looks to be the case." She proceeded. He must just have too much on his shoulders to blow up. "The guys and I didn't get a chance to really investigate before being beckoned by The Doc." She rolled her eyes scathingly. Having to save him is a taste that will never stop being nauseating. "I was hoping you'd go down with me to figure out how." Prescott nonchalantly sipped his tea, sighing pleased by its delightful taste. Cecelia was seriously scared she was looking at a clone or something. Maybe his brain has been taken over by aliens! _Why is he so calm?_ Zen meditation status. He shouldn't be one with the universe. He should be threatening to blow it up. Not that she hasn't been working hard to quell that flame. It's never worked this well.

"I've actually been down there a couple times lately." He stated standoffish.

"You have?" Her head tilted. _When?_

"Yes, I feared having amateurs around the substation would make things worse." Veins clenched in Cecelia's forehead. That sounds more like him. "I ran a diagnostic as well as checked manually. I didn't find anything."

"Small Pete is nosing around down there."

"Well then there's nothing to worry about."

"Say what?" She droned, too lost of disbelief to be disbelieved. She needed to wrap her head around this. "You're fine with Small Pete down there but not us?!"

"Yep." He shot forward, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. That cute blush cane back. "I couldn't stand you getting hurt by big machinery."

Her heart skipped a beat, then she relaxed with a, soft smile. "Softy."

"Only for you." They kissed once more.

Cecelia falls in love with him all over again every single time. _Oswald's getting to you, Cecelia. You're paranoid._ Prescott isn't hiding anything. Or behaving strangely. He's just looking out for her. "As much as I'd love to spend the day with you, I have my own assignments to get to." She set the cup down, meandering for the door.

"Where are you off to?"

"The substation. You see..." She summed up her less than glorious battle with the mechanical dragon in The Mad Doctor's Lab. She's trying to use her magic as if it was whole. Attempting to call on strength that she knows full well isn't there anymore. It's discouraging to admit, even more so than having her spells fail when her friends needed her. So she has to adapt to this handicap, and utilise what little power she does have and cultivate it into a force to be reckoned with. And she's the granddaughter of the great Yensid. This will be no biggie. "So if I'm going to be of any help to Ozz and Mick, I need to TRY and be at my best."

"Are you sure about pushing yourself?" He fretted. "I really don't want you getting hurt."

"Don't worry about me. I've got a handle on this."

"As you always do." His shoulders sank. _Curse you...Doctor._ He shuddered. "I have my own work to see to in Blot Alley. What say you and I try our date in Tortuga again and go from there."

"I'd love to." They haven't had a proper date in a while. Why not rekindle where they left off? "See you then."

"Definitely." He opened the door for her. Cecelia headed for the sinkhole. The elevator was gone, but she knows a little drift spell that should carry her down safely. She was about to take the jump. Then paused. "By the way…" Prescott stopped at the projector. She turned to him red faced, "I would have moved in with you."

"You would?!" He beamed on the outside, while becoming sick on the inside.

"Yeah...if it's still an option." She pressed her fingers together, tail wrapping to her waist and ears drooping.

"Of course! I mean, I'd have to make room, but yes!" He exploded gleefully. Cecelia was overcome by pure joy. A golden light lifted her off the ground, like angel wings sprouted from her. Sue disappeared into the hole, laughing gleefully. Prescott lowered his head. His teeth gnawed at his lower lip. He punched a support column of the factory. "No...no...NO! Why...now?!" He seethed. "Why now?! Why do you make this harder now?!" He was falling apart at the seams. The Mad Doctor needs to hurry and finish his scheme. Prescott can't take much more.

 **xxx**

"Alright, Ozzy," Copernicus pulled a pen from his horn and a list from his belt. "That's the basement fixed and lit." He checked it off. "All five foyers are renovated, libraries done, and...the three kitchens spick and span." Check, check, and check. "The way we're goin' we'll have the mansion up and goin' by early next month."

"Thanks, Copernicus. And thanks for taking time from your observatory to help out." The observatory is Copernicus's home away from home in Mean Street South. He's always searching for that bridge that let's folks like Mickey and Cecelia come and go as they please. He refuses to believe having a heart is all it takes. "I know finding the link between our world and the cartoon world is important to you."

"Not as important as fixing our world." Copernicus proclaimed. "This is my home first. The outside world can wait another day. What's time to us toons?"

"Good point." Oswald winked. And he will never answer how old they are.

"Dere ya are, Oswald! Been lookin' fur ya!" The arduous guffaw of Big Bad Pete is only less obnoxious than his stepping and clopping. Marching around Bog Easy and Mean Street like he owns the place. Copernicus sneered disdainfully, thinking of the most revolting reason that would bring the self appointed authority of City Hall to Bog Easy. He didn't help before or after the quake. He just went around bossing people around and chastising their work - when he wasn't taking credit for it. "I tell ya, findin' you ain't no small feat! I might have a beach bod by the time summer rolls around."

"Summer 50 years from now." Oswald squeezed his face at Copernicus's snide remark, trying not to laugh.

"What's up, Big Bad? Something wrong in Mean Street South?" Copernicus inhaled to respond. Oswald clothes pinned his lips closed, ignoring the grudging sneer.

"Yeah...umm...see…" Big Bad was suddenly very flustered. Oswald and Copernicus began to fear something really was wrong. "Hey, uh, Copernickel-"

"COPERNICUS!"

"Whatever! I need tuh talk tuh Ozzie for a sec. Would ya…" He moved his hands for the Gremlin to take his leave. Copernicus was unable to fathom what he had to say that required all this secrecy, but by the look on his face it isn't meant to be heard by others. Oswald nodded to him, assuring him it was fine. Copernicus respected his wishes and went to go help the others with more work. "Look, I didn't want tuh be de one tuh tell ya dis…" Big Bad chewed on his lower lip, "Dat Kitten Cat yer seen wit."

"Cecelia? Or Ortensia?!"

"Cecelia."

"Is she alright?! What happened?!"

"She's fine. Don't worry. But uhh...how do I put dis…"

"Just spit it out, Big Bad!" Oswald stretched his ears, losing patience with all the suspense.

Big Bad released a defeated sigh. Inside he was snickering. "Look, Pal, here's de short version, duh kid is goin' round tellin' folks yer losin' touch wit duh issues around Wasteland!" He blurted, sounding winded.

"She what?!" He scrunched with a brow raised. He put his hands on his hips, tilting his head. "What do you mean _losing touch_?"

"Look, I'm just the messenger!" Big Bad raised his hands. And people know better than to shoot the messenger. "She's tellin' others that you don't seem to know how to bring us back from the quake disaster, and dat yer spendin' so much time helpin' The Doc dat, well," And he shuddered to say it, "Yer puttin' him above everyone else."

"WHAT?! SHE SAID THAT?!" He twisted his ears around his neck. They slapped his face, snapping back in place. He can't believe it. Cecelia actually said that about him? He doesn't want to believe it. He really doesn't. But what Big Bad said, her feelings on The Mad Doctor are on the spot. And she's accused him numerous times of being blinded by an attachment to The Doc. "Where is she right now?! I need to speak with her!" He needs to hear this from her. No one else.

"No clue. Last I heard, the kid she was heading for Mean Street South." The sound of a gunshot and a gust of wind startled Big Bad. Oswald was gone and on his way back to Mean Street South. Big Bad's belly jiggled at how thirstily Oswald drank up that malarkey. "So easy I almost feel guilty. Almost"

 **xxx**

The work in the substations was less arduous than what either Small Pete or Cecelia were expecting. Aside for the faulty plumbing system, the rest of the station was an easy fix when they split up the work. The cooling fans beneath the substation's power generator were damaged by the quake. The fallen rubble around them, plus the nicks and dings prove it. That alleviated some of Cecelia's worries. That aside, these fans are crucial so the substation won't overheat. Cecelia found a repair spell in her spellbook. The damage was severe, but, if she puts her heart in it, she may be able to fix it good as new. And, as she anticipated, she did. She had to work on them one at a time, but the work bore fruit. The fans straightened out, the rotors were fastened in place, and the power supply was rejuvenated with fresh energy. Cecelia was proud of the purr she heard when she flicked them on.

Small Pete got to oiling the joints of the paint pumps and the robot arms where the dwarves faces were carved. Minor tightenings and loosenings of the joints, followed by a good oilings would ensure there are further complications in the near future. He inspected the generator religiously. The smallest hiccup in paint flow and he was adjusting the valves. A couple times he saw changes in each paints' pigment and changed out the toners. The joints, the valves, and the toners led him to an issue that could become catastrophic in the future. Rust mixed with thinner that has began eating through the inner gears and pulleys like acid. Small Pete called Cecelia from her inspections and asked if she can do anything about the rust and thinner.

"Think you can wiggle your fingers here?"

Cecelia cringed at the state the insides were in. It's like looking inside a volcano slapped with acne cream that just blisters skin. "I can try…" She flipped through her book, stopping a finger on the page she needed. " _What was done, now undo, return now to the form that's true._ " She chanted marshalling a yellow lime mist to her palm. " _Sarcio!_ " Her eyes resonated with the yellow lime glow. The mist seeped into the corrosion, an outline traced every inch of the blemishing irritation, small cracks and chips heard as it was peeled. Sprinkled of mist gradually stacked to the air, dissipating into tiny, shimmering particles. The rust and thinner corrosion erased in parts. The gears and pulleys eaten by it returning to their original states. Cecelia was drenched in sweat, parched of breath. The strain of such a large fix was harrowing. To think there was a time she would sneeze and things would be fixed. Boy if Yensid and Merlin were here they'd be poking fun at her ruthlessly. Nevertheless, Cecelia finished the task and freed the inner workings of the corrosion. She collapsed to her knees, throwing her head back in relief that it was over.

"Thanks for the hand, Kiddo. Dis should free up my load by tons." Small Pete pat her head. He propped a wrench to his shoulder, going back to inspecting the plumbing.

"No...problem...woof!" She used a wall to return to her feet. She stretched and twisted the strain off. "Still, I wish we could find out how the substation went down in the first place." All of the issues they resolved aside, none of it explained how the projectors went down in the first place.

"You leave dat tuh me! You go and see if yer Gremlin is back." Small Pete pushed her along, her heels digging in the dirt. He leaned in close, "I hears yous twos has lots a smoochin to catch up on." He blew taunting kisses.

"SHUT UP!" She screamed in a blush. Small Pete cackled menacingly, taking off before Cecelia had a chance to punch him. These Pete's are going to be the death of her.

"Aw, Cecelia, there you are." Cecelia turned. A fiery hue lit to her nails. The Mad Doctor had found her, approaching with that devious smile he tried to play as tender. She tensed defensively, stepping into an attacking stance. She'll eat his ankles if she has to. "Do not be frightened! I am here to offer you my condolences."

"Condolences about what?" She spat. _Like I'd ever want mercy from you!_

He folded his hands behind his back, clearing his throat, "I heard your magic has been stolen." Cecelia's felt everything inside of her go limp, yet she was standing rooted like statue. The Mad Doctor bowed, "You have my apologies."

"Who told you that?!" She shrieked. "How do you know about it?!" There are only five people who know about this, and she knows none of them would ever tell HIM about this.

"Please, do calm down." The Mad Doctor implored. "When we spoke he had the best of intentions. He's just worried your not being up to snuff will get him and the others killed." He laid down the bases to stand on. Cecelia is famous for erupting. He doesn't want her leaving a hole in the floor. "I promise you that Oswald only brought it up as a concern for a dear friend."

"Oswald?!" Something inside of her broke. Oswald told him? Why? "No way! Oswald had no business telling you that!" She spat. _Now that I think about it, of course he would feel this way. Damn Rabbit!_ She was succumbing to a fury that's been building towards that rabbit for some time. Oswald's been relentless in pointing out her flaws since disagreeing with him about The Mad Doctor. HIS FRIEND! Under normal circumstances she'd never believe a word from this old fool's mouth. Nothing is normal, and nothing is kosher between her and Oswald. He hasn't stopped trying to poke hole in her since pleading Prescott's case. "Stupid...rabbit! WHERE IS HE?!"

"GAH! Mean Street South! But-"

"I'm going to cook him in carrots!" She vowed.

"Now, now it was an accident!" He fanned his hands to her flames. Literally. Her ears were burning. And not because someone somewhere was talking about her. "He only said it in passing and before he knew it-" Cecelia spun on her heels and was gone before he could draw a second breath. "Do not be so cross with him! He meant well!" He beckoned. But she was already gone. On her way to ripping the rabbit a new one. The Mad Doctor chuckled pleased, rubbing his palms together. "And that went as well as I had hoped."

 **xxx**

Mickey and Gus returned to Mean Street South from fixing the OsTown. Strangely enough, one of the three little pigs was inside Mickey's house. Wonder what he's been doing in there? No matter. The pair found a frothing at the mouth Oswald pacing holes around what remained of the town square garden. The pair rushed to their friend's side, fearing what could be the matter. They're hoping nothing bad happened to Bog Easy. Before Oswald could explain, Cecelia was showing up with Ortensia from the Underground, equally enraged, and growing angrier when she and Oswald locked glares.

"Where the Hell do you get off?!" She screeched hatefully. She stormed to him, leaving molten lava prints.

"With what?!" Oswald's stomping quaked all of Mean Street South.

"Telling The Mad Doctor that my magic was gone!" She shook her fists, lightning surging between her ears.

"What?! I never said anything to him about that!" He swept a hand at her slanderous accusation. He jabbed a finger in her chest, "I should be asking where YOU get off!"

"Excuse me?! With what?!"

"Telling Big Bad that I don't know what to do about the damage! I know exactly what to do!" He threw his hands in the air. Ortensia, Gus, and Mickey repeatedly exchanged baffled and frightened glances. This is either a case of bad information, or a serious play on hearsay. These three know these two would never speak so ill of one another to others. Regardless of the feud they were having. Yet here they stand in the middle of Mean Street South, verbally cutting one another down to size. Any longer and there will be nothing left. "If anything, all I've ever been thinking about is how to move forward with repairs!

"I never said a thing like that! I would never!" She placed hands to her chest. From the bottom of her heart, she'd never denounce his efforts.

"Yeah because your faith in me is just sooo steadfast!" He rolled his whole head on that statement.

"Oh yeah, like you're one to talk!" She stomped, folding her arms. "You haven't stopped doubting me since I disagreed with you about Prescott and The Doc!"

"Because you're so bent on seeing the worst in someone and don't want to believe they can change!" He's never seen someone so cynical. And coming from the girl that tried to inspire people to move forward. "Not everyone is your dad or those kids, Cecelia! People do change!" The ogling trio stifled their horrified gasps behind their hands. Oswald just stepped into dangerous territory.

"Don't you DARE bring that into this!" She beared her fangs. "This is completely different!"

"Yeah! You didn't turn anyone into an ash pile! AH!" Oswald regretted his running mouth too late. He turned to pale stone, shaking uncontrollably. The trio to the side were rooted. No one dared to speak or move. Cecelia's head slowly fell, her bangs hiding what can only be her darkest sorrow. She sank with no means to fight or rebuke. She...she can't. Not after hearing what he truly thought. "No...no I...I didn't mean-Cecelia! I'm-" Oswald buried his face in his hands. _Why...why did I-_

"HEY DERE, PALLIES! So yous guys are here!" Small Pete obnoxiously beckoned. Oswald and Cecelia miserably turned their sluggish heads, unable to really react to the clopping of another Pete Counterpart. Mickey, Gus, and Ortensia thanked the Spirits of Wasteland he chose now to arrive. "Before you go gettin' carried away TOO MUCH, you better get a load of dis." He menacingly clopped from the shadows. His hands were wrapped to something. Oswald and Cecelia just gave one another sideways glances. A mutual truce was agreed upon, but they were far from forgiving one another. They meandered to the Pete, followed by their friends. "After de kitten here left de substation, I found dese jammed in the projector pipes!" He spread his palms. Those chattering teeth that Prescott hates were dancing in his palms. "Dey were chewing them up pretty good too."

"A Gag from the Gag Factory?" Oswald identified.

"As if Prescott wasn't in a bad enough mood as it is." Cecelia dreaded that visit.

"What's the big deal?" Oswald knit his brow.

The great heroes of Wasteland are very slow on the uptake. He loomed over them, his twisted grin in their faces. "Well, someone must have shoved dem dere on purpose!" Can't paint the picture anymore clearer than that. "And DAT means duh projectors were sabotageed."

The five gasped allowed, coming together with hooked arms. "Sabotage!" Oswald gasped the correct pronunciation. It is just as they feared from the start. But to have it proven so irrefutably was crushing. Someone - and Wastelander - purposefully disabled the projectors, and was blessed with the luck of the earthquake to help cover their crimes for a time. And now, in the face of this evidence, the true trial has thrust itself in Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia's journey. Their faith in the people they protect, and the trust they have toward their friends...will be tested beyond it's limits. One of the Toons of Wasteland are beyond this sabotage. And one way or another, regardless if they wish to, they are going to find who it is...and they will be punished.

 **To be continued**


	14. Path Toward Truth

**Path Toward Truth**

 **We're getting closer to the end.**

 **xxx**

As inconceivable as it sounds...there was a saboteur within Wasteland. A friends, a family member, or a neighbor - whoever they are to someone, that person is the sole cause of Wasteland's current disarray. Using the quake and the aftershocks as a cover, this new enemy took the projectors - Wasteland's fastest and most efficient means of transportation - offline, thus crippling the people from reaching friends and loved ones in other regions. Homes and lands falling to ruin, and not a single person is able to rush to the rescue, or put a stop to Mother Nature's rampage. This saboteur is as brilliant as he is evil. He left a scar in Wasteland that it will never recover from. He instilled fear and helplessness to everyone. And now he's lying in wait for his next big move. Hopefully he isn't aware that Oswald and the others discovered the gag from the Gag Factory lodged in the projector pipes. That's the one advantage they have, and they need it. Because, right now, infighting with the team is causing their group aesthetic to severely slouch.

Oswald and Cecelia's rivalry is bringing a rift to the group. Oswald wants to believe with all his heart that The Mad Doctor means well, and has truly come around to help them. Who wouldn't after what's transpired the past two years? Oswald forgave Mickey for causing the Thinner Disaster. And he isn't holding it against Cecelia at all about keeping her true magic secret - or letting it fall into The Blot's hands. He trusts in those who say they want to change, and take the steps to show their sincerity. But Cecelia - Ortensia too - is hooked on seeing the worst in him. And she has every right to. Oswald's been trying to pin the blame on Prescott since learning he has Cecelia's spellbook. Prescott must have been the one to take Lydia's magic, Prescott is behind the projector's malfunctioning, Prescott this, Prescott that. Cecelia will rush to Prescott's defense every time because she loves him and believes in him. He's a grouch, but he'd never hurt anyone. And Oswald has zero proof he's behind any of it. The same is said for The Mad Doctor. Cecelia has no proof, besides the past, that he's done anything but help. Which just brings them all back to square one, with a blueprint of catastrophes being lobbed at them.

Oswald and the others split up to do some investigating. Cover more ground before they start losing their only lead. Cecelia volunteered to be the one who goes to OsTown. She said it was to tell Prescott about what they found. Gus knew, as he followed her, that she only wanted to escape Oswald. Lines are being crossed too frequently between those two. Their desire to hurt one another to harden their faith in their companions is taking their rivalry too far. It's for the best they've decided not to pair off this time around. Gus and Mickey both feared what would happen if they're left alone for too long.

 _Knock, knock, knock!_ "Prescott! You home?!" Cecelia bellowed, creeping the Gag Factory door open. It was dark in there. Pretty nerve racking with the gags sitting on the shelves, just staring at them. Good thing they've faced scarier than toys. "Prescott! Press, it's Cecelia and Gus! You here?!" She tried again. No response. Just silence.

"Prescott must have gone out again." Gus huffed irritably. He ran a hand to a few of the tools. They were cold. Hadn't been used in hours. "He's been disappearing a lot lately. I wonder where he goes." He tapped his chin. Prescott doesn't gossip about his traveling but he usually leaves a note or someone to guard the factory when he leaves. Gus started to search for such a clue...when he saw Cecelia at his work desk. She was gazing lovingly to a photo of her and Prescott on a tunnel ride in Tomorrow City. The lightning blue panels of light whisking by. A mass of colored pixels creating images of Wasteland's heyday to the present. Two youngsters very much in love, having the time of their lives. Gus sighed solemnly, resting a hand to his saddened friend's shoulder. "Cecelia, he didn't mean it."

"It doesn't bother me." She rasped the lied. She set the picture down. She slipped from his hand, meandering for the door. "Things tend to not bother me for long."

Gus zoomed around in front of her, stretching his arms to bar her from escaping. "Do not play the strong face. I haven't forgotten what happens when you bottle up your feelings." Cecelia doubts anyone's forgotten that. She did kind of burn down the Haunted Mansion Attic, and gave the Gremlin's a show in their village. "And I know I haven't forgotten how to tell when you're upset!" He placed hands at her upper arms, wanting her to face him instead of trying to run. "Cecelia, there's nothing wrong with being hurt. What Oswald said was spur of the moment. You know he'd never hold that against you!"

"I'm not sad about what he said." She stressed. She isn't sad about that in the least. And with what she's been hitting him with, she can't play hurt at him mentioning those kids. "I'm sad because...I'm faulting him for defending someone with a sordid past. As if Prescott and I are angels." She spread her arms to the hypocrisy. She can make ten collages out of it. "And what does it say when I'm not willing to give people a second chance." She brought he dad's memories back only to up and disappear on him. To torture him. "I just...I really want to believe in Oswald's belief. That The Doc has changed." She wants to believe in him more than anything. Oswald's dealt with so much his tenure as Wasteland's King. Ortensia being turned to stone, Wasteland rotted by thinner, The Mad Doctor causing mass mayhem, and The Blot nearly destroying Wasteland twice. Now there are quakes, Blotworx robots, the projectors being killed, and The Mad Doctor returning. "So much crap has thrown itself at Oswald, and the harder he tries the more it seems to throw itself in his face." She of all people knows what it means to have your hard work turn to ash in your mouth. "It hurts when someone you vest faith in turns on you. I don't want that for Oz."

"Neither do I. And it does hurt indeed." Gus placed a hand where an aching heart would be. "That's why he has us to help mend those wounds." He tilted her chin up, having her meet his mischievous smile. Oswald isn't the only one with friends to help him. Cecelia caught the message, started to giggle. She nodded to him in thanks. She feels moderately better. But she'll still be kicking herself for what she said. "Now, we should focus on finding Prescott. If word gets out that one of his gags were found in the projector pipes, the people will riot to see him accused.."

"Maybe that's why he is gone." Cecelia proposed. Gus felt his veins stricken. "Small Pete could have told him about the pipes and Prescott left to investigate for himself." That was a relief. He thought she'd given up on him after that poetic speech. "Prescott is the going genius on the projectors. Who else would know how to tune them up better than him."

"You might be onto something. I actually just spoke with Gremlin Sparks before I came to OsTown." Sparks has been working with Jamface nonstop to get all the scrap metal lying around. What with Marcus bedridden from a TV falling on him. "Before he returned to his shop in Bog Easy, he told me Small Pete commissioned his help with the pipes." Cecelia titled her head baffled. He asked for Sparks' help instead of Prescott? Or did he ask for both? "Sparks was down there just a few minutes before we arrived here to OsTown. He didn't see Prescott anywhere."

"So if he isn't there, where would he go?" Cecelia was drawing a blank here. And his workspace was left a mess. He left in a hurry. Shuffling papers around bore fruit. She found a letter. No time stamp, so there's no way of telling when he wrote it. " _Out to do real work. Be back when I feel like it._ " Cecelia was reading it, but they heard Prescott snorting it.

"Ah yes. Code that he intends to be gone for several days." Gus huffed irately. Prescott's even unfriendly in his letters. "I'll radio him." He took up his pin. "Prescott, this is Gus, do you read me?" Static was his reply. He idled for a few seconds, hoping he'd come through. Cecelia leaned a hand to the desk, trying to think on where Prescott would have gone. Out of a bad habit developed from her Grandfather's shop she started to organize his desk. A shiny pin was hiding underneath the papers. "Prescott! Do you read me? Prescott! Blast that man!" Gus snarled, glaring at him through him communicator pin. "He must have turned it off! He does that when he-"

" _OR_ GUS…" Cecelia's voice came from his pin. He glanced at her irked, then gasped at the Projector Reel pin in her fingers, "He _left_ it _behind_."

"Why would he leave it?" Gus furrowed his brow curiously. "I understand he's busy, but what if he needs to contact us in case of danger?" None of this was making sense.

"Real work…" Cecelia muttered. That gave her an idea. "You know, Prescott mentioned to me a long time ago that he started some projects." With all these blueprints everywhere, SOME is code for _whole Wasteland renovation._ "Prescott said he was heading to a place called Blot Alley today."

"That's in Bog Easy. It's a new location Ghost Ian made especially for the Blotlings." Cecelia deadpanned sickly. A home for Blotlings. As if she hasn't seen enough of these guys. "The Blot may have gone but his underlings lingered and flooded our streets. We had to put them somewhere, and Ghost Ian and his brothers have a tender place in their hearts for being with a bad reputation."

Cecelia rolled her eyes with a smirk. The Ghosts have bleeding hearts. Tedworth more than his brothers. Apparently he's bothering Horace to find his...missing Teddy Bear. "There's a chance Prescott could still be there now." Cecelia pressed. "I'll go on ahead and see if he isn't hanging out there. You find Mick and Oz and meet me there." She proceeded for the door.

"Are you sure going on your own is wise?!" Gus abruptly stopped her with a hand to the knob. He was still gentlemanly enough to open the door for her. "You don't know the area, and you haven't been up to snuff lately." Regardless of the glare she shot at him, Gus does not regret pointing out her shortcoming. She is brave and smart, but her magic makes up for what she can't do physically. While in her child form, anyway. Adult - he can't be sure. Then a thought come to Gus. "Or is your wish to go alone a personal one?" Cecelia's glare faded. She turned away, holding her arm. "It is."

Cecelia sighed heavily. She's so easily figured out. Yes, she know going alone is foolish. But she won't get the answers she needs, or wants, if there's an audience. "Gus, I trust Prescott more than you know. More than I trust myself. But…" She stared at her palms. They were shaking. An anxiety growing within her caused the veins to show. She closed them, nibbling at her lower lip, "I'm not so naive that I haven't recognized how odd he's been acting. And so have you." She added sternly. Gus dropped his head. Guess Cecelia isn't the only one transparent these days. "He has mood swings. He disappears after we discover someone broke the projectors?" Who wouldn't find that strange?! One would think, after the last time, he'd be front and center, and frothing at the mouth, that someone ruined his precious projectors. "And when I told him the Substation went down before the quake…" She had to pause to catch her breath. She still shudders at his behavior, "He barely flinched. In fact...he was...at peace." Gus's mouth widened, but he was too shocked to actually speak. Prescott calm at someone ruining the Substation? He should have been up in arms. "I don't believe he's involved in any of this. But...he'll be more cordial if it's just me." After all, they both have tender spots in their hearts for one another.

"Cecelia…" Gus took her hands. He knows he can't stop her. Doesn't mean he won't try. "I trust your judgement. But I still worry of you venturing alone."

"Don't worry. I'm sure the Ghost brothers will help." She's pretty sure they'll give her a hand or two. They like her enough. "And thanks to you, I can get creative." She spread her fingers one at a time. A glittering mist of blooming lilies circled Gus , drifting off into the air. She winked at him, assuring him she'd be fine.

Gus snickered under his breath, releasing her from his obstructions. He has been defeated. "It might be prudent for me to scour other regions. Prescott has projects across Wasteland. He might be at one of those."

"Sounds like a plan. Take care." She pat him on the back, and a was racing for the projector.

"That's our girl." Gus whispered. Cecelia leapt through the projector in a dive. "Oh, Prescott…" Gus clutching at hand at his pounding chest, "Please don't prove her wrong."

 **xxx**

Regardless of how many times she goes in and out, Cecelia feels her body reorient in the projectors. Like going through three loops on a high powered roller coaster in the middle of space. She steadied herself on the small patch of muddy terrain. The fumes she had the displeasure of recalling were doing nothing to help her spinning head. She put a hand to a tree to maintain her balance. _Squish._ Her skin crawled at what cold ooze her hand just landed in. Nervously she craned her neck. She had the biggest exhaust of relief that it was only sap. She wiped it off, coming to the foot of her little patch of _heaven._ Her heart jumped out of her chest spotting the inflatable alligators. She laughed derisively at herself. So much has happened that she can't discern a toy for the genuine article. Honestly. "Look at these things…" She poked at one, laughing giddily at how springy it felt. The second one had a missing eye, but a goofy grin drawn on it. And the third floating in close was so life like. "Wait…" She went green as the floatie. She had to stare for a bit. That gator float...wasn't floating. It's swimming. There are bubbles at the mouth. And the eyes are BLINKING! "TIME TO GO!" She skipped across the REAL floaties in two hops, landing to the wobbly Bog Easy boardwalk. "Phew! I think those nine lives of mine are calling their tab. It might be the vertigo, but she would swear the boardwalk was lower. Or the thinner was higher. Either way, that gator over there was licking his chops. Cecelia scrambled as far from the ledge as possible, her back bumping into a less than sturdy sign. It toppled over, splashing into the swamp. "Maybe no one will notice."

The wobbly boardwalk, the easily toppled sign, and the rising thinner. Cecelia is aware Wasteland took a hit, but she held onto the prayer that not everywhere had suffered terribly. Taking a quick glance around, "Whoa…" That prayer just wasn't close to reality. "Look at this place." She wishes the amazement in her voice was jovial. She was consumed with shock and horror. The projector took her into what she's assuming it Bog Easy's Bayou. The Cajun huts and shops kind of gave it away. But the lack of energy that she experienced before was completely gone. The quake turned everything upside down and inside out. The forest she saw on her last visit just collapsed in on itself, slumping to what little remained of the town. Cecelia won't be surprised if its split down the middle like Mean Street. She was both happy and forlorn to see the festive lighting hanging across the different shops. Shows they haven't let this disaster stop them from living their lives. At the same time...they're clinging to a thread to stay above ground. Literally.

"Man...maybe I should have brought Gus along." Nothing is as it once was. Cecelia hardly recognizes Mean Street, let alone Bog Easy. Going off on her own may not have been the best idea. Now that she thinks about it, Cecelia hasn't really been on her own in Wasteland in quite a long time. Before, she accidentally teleported herself to Gremlin Village to escape from Ghostly Manor's attic. Unleashing her true magic terrified her, scarier still was how the others would have reacted. She didn't know which way was up until the attacking Ghoul Blots brought Prescott and the others to the rescue.

"Prescott…" She mumbled to herself, downtrodden by what's brought her to Bog Easy. She was so lost in thought, she wasn't paying attention to the large metal door. _BAM!_ "YOUCH!" She peeled her face off, rubbing her sore nose. She growled heatedly, glaring daggers at the monstrous door. It wasn't an exaggeration. The door had a giant red light in the middle, and a jagged toothed seam running across it. It was a giant metal monster mouth. "What idiot put a door here?!" She roared. She knocked on it. A hollow echo reverberated. She slipped her fingers to the slit in a futile attempt to pry it open. She looked for a doorknob, or anything that resembled a door opener. Nothing. "What is this? Where does it go?"

"Dat dare is a Beetleworx replicator." Metairie, a local shopkeeper of Bog Easy, announced in her cool Jamaican Accent. She walked up to Cecelia. The two squeezed one another in a hug. Cecelia met her once before on her other visits. She makes a mean Bourbon Street Strawberry Shake. And she's a great storyteller. "De Mad Doctor had dem put in after de quake hit. Dem Beetleworx is supposed to come out and help us fix our homes." She kicked at the door, spitting on it like junk. "Instead it breaks after a few shocking shakes and seizes up!" Never trust a stranger to do a local's job. That's her motto. They of Bog Easy are a proud and hearty people. They don't need fancy gizmos fixing up their land. Before the Beetleworx, they were doing just fine. That door is just an eyesore. "Augh! Zut alors! Dey be notin' but trouble since dey was put in! Prescott said he fixed de dang ting! It still won't come online!"

"Prescott?! He was here?! When?! Where did he go?!" Cecelia realized she must sound frantic. But it was dire that Metairie knew that she needs to find him and fast.

"He just went trough (through) de shopkeeper's store." She escorted Cecelia to the large wooden panel doors. "Ya can't have missed him by two minutes."

"Thanks, Metairie! And when I get back, lets split a shake!" She took off inside.

"I made a new Bourbon Banana Split too! IT'LL BE WAITIN' FOR YA, CHILD!"

Miraculous as it sounds, Cecelia heard about that Banana Split in the midst of her rocketing through the shop. The Keep was blown sideways. His clothings and hair petrified to one side. He missed what the rush was. On the bright side, she took more than half the dust with her. His shop was sparkling. She came out the door with a cloud of moths and dust taking off into the swampy air. She coughed up a small cloud herself. "Well at least here isn't so depressing." Everywhere she turned, Wasteland seemed completely decimated. None of the region's she's been to survived. The Bayou's neighboring area raised her hopes. This spot was still standing tall. The Boardwalk was higher from the thinner, but portions of it were of being kept thinned out by automatic thinner spitting frogs. Still better than being two inches above thinner.

"Alright. Time to catch up!" She barely missed Prescott. Stopping to admire the sights wasn't going to speed up her mission. She hopped onto an overturned rowboat. She lost balance to the one end sinking slightly, catching herself on her hands. She shook it off and went for her next jump. Her foot slipped on a patch of mold. Her chest met the edge of the boardwalk hard. The hairs on her tail stood on end. She looked over as she pulled herself up. No doubt about it, the gator from earlier followed her. Bubbling came from her other side and underneath the boardwalk. She went as white as her hair in the face of two more gators. "Is cat a favorite delicacy of yours, or what?!" She hissed at them. The gator bobbed their heads with agreeing grunts. Their pink tongue ran along their smacking chops. "That's it!" She took her spellbook, opening it to the perfect incantation for these grinning reptiles. " _Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Time for some dental work! Nothing but gums, FORSOOTH!_ " The book was snapped shut. The gators opened their mouths and slammed their jaws tight. Pained, sickly grimaces spread to their faces. They lifted their mouths from the water. Every single one of their teeth fell out. They whimpered in fear. Cecelia showed her teeth in a sinister grin. She loves having feline canines. The gators swam off, yelping like kicked dogs. "Ha! Let's see Oswald do that!" She scoffed.

Cecelia pulled herself onto the boardwalk. She lunged half her body forward, rolling a ways onto her back. She was already lost for breath. Just when she thinks she's adjusted to being at half strength. She crawled on her hands and feet, pulling herself up by a pole. She arched a baffled brow at the mechanical banjo band. Their circuits were fried. Their whole bodies spasmed repetitively. Oswald would be able to fix this in a heartbeat. Or Prescott.

"Metairie said she saw him pass by a few minutes ago…" Cecelia thought aloud. She moseyed in short steps, scouring for any signs of her purple Gremlin. She doesn't mean to sneak. But if he isn't expecting visitors, she doesn't want him taking off. "Huh? Ugh!" Prickling pressure was swelling deep within her. From the tips of her toes did she feel a buzzing reverberating to the marrow. Rampant pulses shot into her hips, crippling her to a knee. A lightness flooded her head, nausea churning her stomach. Bog Easy was turning on it's axis right in front of her. Blurred shapes and gelatinous shadows consumed her vision. Each step she took unleashed this quake beneath her. _This feeling..._ She pressed her shoulder to a nearby wall, forcing long breaths in and out, easing herself from this torture. _I've felt this before._ At the Gag Factory. In the midst of the nausea, the prickling like needles making holes in cloth, there is this dull tugging sensation. Hooks in her body constantly pulling, begging her to push on forward. A beacon wanting Cecelia to come closer. She steadied herself, gradually coming back to her feet. She rounded a corner, finding herself at the Bog Easy Train Station yard.

"Prescott?!" She gasped quietly. There he was! At the other Beetleworx Replicator next to the train station. Boy. That place had seen better days. Prescott was going at the Access Port beside the door. She was able to make out his lips moving. Likely complaining that he's been stooped a door repairman. Sounds about right. He was going above and beyond to ignore the Conductor. He wanted help fixing the station. Prescott rolled his whole head and gave access port a swift kick. The door's menacing red eye reignited brimming crimson. It was back online. Prescott handed the Conductor the bill. "Hey, Pres...cott?" Cecelia braved to call to him too late. Prescott flew across the sheltered bridge. "PRESCOTT, WAIT!" Cecelia gave chase. She came to the bridge entrance. She felt that nausea again seeing all the gators jumping and snapping at the air. She saw Prescott getting farther and farther away. Oddly enough, that pulling sensation the knocked the wind out of her was weakening. And it brought dread to her. "What is this?" She pondered. And why does it only happen when she's near Prescott? Just more mysteries she needs to solve. _Maybe it's just residue from holding on to my spellbook for so long._ The book does have magic of its own. Enough to make her feel woozy?

"Man! He must really wanna get to the Floatyard!" The Conductor huffed impatiently. "Left a huge mess and everything for me to clean!" The curls of metal shavings pushed at the crook at the foot of the door. Parts he determined miscellaneous left behind, scattered around. And these oil spills. He was greasing something up like mad. Cecelia giggled to herself. _Prescott. Ever the slob._ "And look at this." The Conductor sneered at his outlandish bill. "He overcharged me for the Replicator Door! And I don't even operate it!" Cecelia eyed the bill and saw the problem. 2,000 E-Tickets is outrageous. "When you catch up to him, can ya tell him I wanna see an accounting report for this number?"

"Sure thing!" She rushed inside the bridge. The gator filled gap was too wide for her best jump. Those ravenous reptiles heard her racing for their pool. In mid jumps they'd poor their full weight into a turn, chomping pieces of wood clean off. Cecelia threw herself back, her feet slipping out from under her. Two gators lunged at her again, burying their teeth into the walk, bending and pulling it into their pool. The walk was slanting, dragging Cecelia into a slide to her death. She dug her nails into the wood, clawing her way back to flat surface. She caught her breath momentarily, growling at how those gators continue to get in her way. She would swear she can hear them laughing at her. That laughter will be short lived. Cecelia wasn't deterred. She had to make that jump. Prescott was getting away. She gave herself a good running start, breaking into her top speed, eyes firmly locked to the door ahead. " _WALK AMONG THE BIRDS!_ " She kicked off the walk right at the edge. Her arms spread like a soaring bird's. Gators launched at her. She fluttered her feet as her body was pulled for the pool. Boosts of power exploded from the soles of her feet. The gators' gullets filled to bursting with solid masses of air, and she was pushed into a miraculous leap. She landed in a tumble, coming out like a champion through the doors. She posed like a champion diver, then sank like a deflated balloon. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Just when things were looking up.

Cecelia traversed the harshness of the bayou with barely a sweat broken on her brow. Now she come face to face with a natural disaster she hoped was only possible in Ventureland. A maelstrom of roaring thinner perpetually pouring into the sinkhole wrought by the quake. The whole literally erased over 50% of what was Bourbon Street in Bog Easy. Now nothing but an empty hole never satisfied or filled. A decimated boat was trapped within that whirlpool. Too large to be swallowed, too broken to ever escape. Cecelia knows she should be upset that such a travesty is gradually and surely eating away at her friend's home. Instead she's irritated that so many obstacles keep throwing themselves between her, Prescott...and what she prays isn't the truth.

"The truth…" Cecelia felt her muscles constrict, rooting her at the ledge. The stirring boat representing fears constantly mixing in the back of her mind since learning the projector's were sabotaged. "What is the truth?" When that question is answered...will she accept it? Someone sabotaged the projectors. Someone with knowledge of the projectors, their weak points...and would be able to work around their malfunction. They would be able to walk amongst the others, never betraying their intentions. Because no one would ever give them a second glance. Other will merely assume that person is a solution, not a problem, to what is a disaster. And if that person were to be discovered, there are no doubts they would be desperate to cover their tracks and attempt to escape persecution. "Maybe...that's why...Prescott is out here!" She beamed. It's the only explanation. Her legs had strength returned to them, leading her in a pace from side to side. "Prescott he-he-he KNEW someone sabotaged the Projectors from the start! That's why he wasn't shocked or angry! He already had his tantrum!" Her mouth was pouring words a thousand miles a minute. Every one made absolute sense to her. Prescott is a man of science. He tests, he theorizes, he fails, has a fit, then cools off as a solution presents itself. It's the same process every single time. "And he's nothing if not meticulous. He hates them, but no way he wouldn't have noticed a gag or two missing. That inventory of his is too important." He's very precise about it. "He must have discovered the identity of the assailant and has tracked him here to confront him about it!" All of this was pure speculation. Cecelia cared not. She was too excited. All these doubts she was having about him, all for naught. Prescott's a grouch. Not a traitor. And she's going to be right there to see him brought out of those shadows. "Alright, Cecelia, onward and forward!"

The boat came back around. Cecelia jumped on. The rusted metal gripped her landing. Cecelia waited as it came near what remained of the street and she hopped over. Normally it's the sights that grab her in an instant. What unnerved her this time was the lack of people. Aside from the Conductor, the shopkeeper, and Metairie, Cecelia hasn't seen anyone around. The Ghost Brothers are said to roam the land when Leona isn't pestering them. _Ha-ha._ She hasn't seen transparent hide or dying hair from either of them. Especially Ian. Where is everybody? Are they safe? She hopes they are. As she meandered more inland, the empty street made her ask a long overdue question. "Where'd Prescott go?" The road she walked came to a short end. Nothing but a towering wall, a couple buildings on either side still standing, and the entrance to a graveyard. Cecelia really doesn't want to go there. There's no projector or secret tunnel for her to proceed through. "Dammit! He must have flown over!" Gremlin's can fly and teleport themselves virtually anywhere. Prescott doesn't need Projectors if he doesn't have to use them. He's proven he's willing to fly vast distances to get to where he needs to be. "Stupid Gremlin flight/teleporting powers!" She huffed, kicking childishly at the dirt. Oh well. Whining never got anyone anywhere. She went the only way she could, searching for a door. She sneered at another of The Mad Doctor's Beetleworx Replicator doors. One would think he'd build something that was useful when Projectors aren't around. "There has to be a way out of here."

Unbeknownst to the scouring feline child, a figure lurked upon the rooftops. Eyes watching her every single move, rigid at the flexing of those flimsy muscles. A child in both body and soul traversing a dangerous region on her own. And without proper protection. No magic, no partners, no brush or remote. She is a defenseless little girl. Could she possibly display herself as an easier target? Without that tail or her feline ears perhaps. Those are certainly _terrifying._ Every fiber was marshalled to stop the slightest chuckle from barking. The figure licked their lips at how delicious an opportunity she has present to them. With but a breath they can end her miserable life with a single blow. Throw her body into the thinner pool and leave nothing for Mickey, Oswald, Gus, or anyone to find. Or bury her in the graveyard where she will rot, and her spirit will haunt for eternity. So many choices. That replicator would certainly come in handy. If it were working properly. As many choices as their are to end someone, it might be more entertaining to tenderize her, watch her struggle and fight, and then relish as she is torn limb from limb. And they have just the ticket to make that happen. A gloved hand rifled in a white pocket. Burgundy pellets scooped into the palm, bounced around to breath life into their foreboding glow. The figure drew their arm back. They lied and waited. Cecelia was yanking at the graveyard gates, almost appreciative that they were locked. She moseyed frustrated back to the center of the half wasted street. That weak wall across the way was her last hope. A strong breeze would topple it. The question would be how she makes that happen. The figure let her ponder that. He threw the pellets in an arch, then jumped for cover.

Cecelia turned away from the wall in failure. "AGH! PAH! GYAH!" Dozens of pellets splattered a horrible smelling gunk to her face, shoulders, and down the rest of her body. Some of it got in her mouth, bringing her close to vomiting. "HEY! ACK! WHO'S THERE?! ACK-PUH!" She roared between gagging. That stuff tasted like month old Mushu Pork marinated in expired meat juice. What sort of twisted mind would concoct such a horrendous brew. And the odor it exuded - BRR - was worse. She swatted at it, smoothing it into puddles on the ground. This stuff would never come out.

" _Grrr..._ " A guttural, baritone groaning shot ice to Cecelia's spine. A breathy hiss made the hairs stand on her neck. The frightening dragging sound, and the patter of feet making her chest pound more fervently than drumbste. She fought her stiffening body to turn, to see the source of that noise. Sure enough. Another alligator came to indulge in a helping of Feline Fatale. Tough, gamey, and ready to choke anyone who takes a bite out of her. It stalked closer in menacing half steps, parting its mighty jaws, showing her the teeth it would use to tear her apart. Cecelia grimaced at its threat, then glare at the gunk staining her. Without a doubt, whoever hit her with this knew it would attract that gator. Too bad for them she can handle one. She stood her ground, tiny fists balled and her own teeth bared. That gator laughed at Cecelia's posturing. Her squaring to send him back into the swamp her crawled out from. He was smarter than that. He tensed his body in, resonating a growl that vibrated the ground and Cecelia's ears. From the breach of the whirlpool four, five, six more gators emerged. The trio whose teeth she took were even their. Her spell didn't last long, and their teeth grew back stronger and sharper than ever. The terror that strickened Cecelia rooted her in place. Seven gators versus one very overwhelmed teenager good with snappy comebacks. "Really regretting leaving Gus home."

The gators began their slow approach. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Either she made her stand here, or she never catches up to Prescott. Cecelia took a glimpse of the thinned out buildings around her. Those would come in handy for cover, not much else. Waiting around for a bunch of hungry gators to get bored and leave wasn't an option. "Hmm…" A stroke of luck. Behind her was a fireworks hatch, and a fresh payload waiting to go off. Streams of lights stretching from one side of the street to the other, large vines. She might be able to make this work. "Game on!" She stretched her arms back. A golden glow coating her hands transmitted to the fireworks behind her. Three of the gators broke into a full charge with a roar. Cecelia thrust her palms forth. The fireworks darted from their place. They and the gators came within inches of Cecelia. She channeled the boost to her feet and flipped high into the air. The gators gulped at the fireworks gunning right for them. " _KABOOM!_ " She snapped her fingers. A blinding, fiery fury blew the three gators in separate directions. One bounced off the pillar of the town hall, the other through the window of a shop, and the last to the feet of their leader. His lip quivered in his growl. He cast his sneer to Cecelia. She was perched to the lanyard of light, grinning smugly at her coup de grace blow. She blew the gator a kiss, winking at him. The gator snarled at her. He motioned his head to two of his other boys. They split off, going for the poles Cecelia dreadingly realized were wrapped by the lights she sat on. The gators ripped and chewed on the lanyard. It slackened under Cecelia's weight. She jumped to the next lanyard. "UGH!" The lead gator had a stone positioned on his tail. He launched it clean for her. Cecelia hooked her legs and flipped back. The rock flew by, shattering on the rock face at the hill. "Well...that was close."

One of the gator managed an impressive leap. Their jaws snapped to Cecelia's hair. Her head felt like it would rip off her shoulders. She was brought down hard in a face plant to the stone. The gator released her hair, snarling in pride of how that must have hurt. Cecelia groaned dazedly, peeling herself from the stone. Specks of dirt clung to her face. Musty breath blew in her face. The lead gator opened his mouth. He huge tongue ran up her face. The sweet taste of her, and the tart taste of the sauce was just intoxicating. "Ew-ew-ew! KNOCK IT OFF!" She shoved a searing hot red ball inside those jaws. He choked, tear running from his eyes. He howled to the sky, flames roaring from his throat. He ran around in a frenzy, beating at his burning tongue. The other gators stayed on Cecelia. The three she blew away came limping back. Cecelia launched a random spell in desperation. It missed the gators by a mile, hitting the unsteady wall in the back. She was surrounded, low on room. Good thing she has an arsenal of spells at her hip. All six gators rushed her. She touched a hand to her book, throwing her other hand up. " _PROTEGO!_ " A bronze dome repelled the gators. Cracks formed halfway around it. The gators shook off the ringing in their heads. Miraculously it was the three she nearly blew up that recovered first. Two of them supported one another. The third loomed near a couple of his downed buddies. Cecelia stretched a hand to the limping pair. " _INLABOR!_ " The palm struck the ground. A crescent rippling wave ran over the stone. The gators looked down. The stones turned to quicksand. The gators were swallowed instantly, taken to who knows where. "GAH!" Two of the other gators rammed her shield from behind, breaking a hole in her defense. "DAMMIT!" The third was her friend fro mthe blast. He shoved his schnoz in. His jaws snapped rampantly, tearing a piece of her skirt. "Nuh-uh! I like this skirt!" She clamped a hand to his nose. " _PEPPER PALM!_ " A gust of pepper shot right into his nose. The gator tried to fight it. In the end he released a sneeze that shot him like a bullet. She dissipated her shield. No point in it now. " _INLABOR!_ " She sent that next gator down into a hole just for himself.

A pair of tail came at her from her blind side. Cecelia was sent flying like a grand slam. A third gator slid in and batted her in midair, sending her crashing to a thinned out section of building. She spat up blood. Searing pain ruptured her abdomen. Her head was pounding. "Oww...what's the license plate on that pair of shoes?" Or is it a truck? She can't see straight. She was able to see well enough that the lead gator's bad case of hot mouth stopped. He roared at the top of his lungs. Cecelia doesn't need to speak gator to know he wants her rare and tenderized. His boys were climbing on top of one another to reach her. Cecelia braced an arm to a ledge, lugging her body onto the second ledge. Like lifting a bag of bricks. One of the gators made the climb, he was right on her tail. Nearly took the tip off. She let him climb to her ledge, waited for that big mouth to open. " _Sufflo!_ " She growled. The gator choked on a sharp breath. His body swelled, blowing up into a alligator balloon. He floated into the air, carried off on the breeze. Cecelia shaped her fingers like a gun, pressing her thumb down. A needle punctured his stomach. Cecelia wished she could laugh at the farting noise taking him into the distance. "Four down...three to go. Way too many!" She grunted. She placed a hand on her head. A leafy stream woven to her skull to the rest of her body. The throbbing and superficial wounds healed. She might need a doctor for the rest. She was able to pick herself up. Two of her _friends_ had half their huge bodies on the ledge. Cecelia pressed a palm to either snout, flipping over and behind them. She spun around swiftly, jabbed two fingers into their spines. " _Torpesco!_ " The gators yelp, their bodies freezing stiff. Their green hides turned solid grey, the life in their glowing yellow eyes gone. "And then there was one…" She snarled at her last dance partner. Her lungs were burning, her skull was throbbing, and this rampant spellcasting was taking a toll on her. These gators would have been turned into shoes and handbags if her magic was 100%. Instead she doing party favors. "I swear, when I find the ass who took my powers…"

The lead gator circled her challengingly, his eyes boring into her. Cecelia matched his pace, her hands gloved with a fierce icy blue mist. She dared him to make a move. She dared him to come after her. She's in a really bad mood and really wants to take it out on someone. She isn't opposed to tearing this alligator thug a new one. She'd prefer the guy who nailed her with this lure gunk. She'll settle. The lead gator stopped his stalking, growling in the back of his throat. He longed to chomp Cecelia in half, feast on her bones for ages. It's nothing short of what she deserves for what she's done. Instead, to her eternal shock, the gator collected what little of his wounded pride was left and shuffled off into the thinner swamp. Cecelia relaxed her guard only an inch, amazed and in disbelief that he tucked his tail between his legs and left. He gave her one last glare, warning her that it wasn't over. He slunk into the thinner, disappearing in shame.

"Ugh! Finally!" She collapsed to her hands and knees, getting back that sweet breath she longed for. She won. On her own. "If only Gus can see me now." She patted herself on the back. It hurt a little, but felt really good. Unfortunately, while that fight raised her sense of independence, it did little to nothing about her passage problems. She doesn't have a way out of there. Her dashed hopes healed when she looked at that weak wall. "Blow me down!" She gasped. There was a hole in it. She ran over, dropping to her knees to peer inside. "Yeah!" On the other side was a projector. Cecelia ran for another round of fireworks. She's so happy that Oswald didn't get rid of these. Ortensia might feel differently. She placed the round right at the wall. She put a good distance between them. " _Kaboom!_ " She snapped her fingers. The fireworks exploded. The wall came crumbling down, half the cliffside too. Cecelia really owes the people of Bog Easy an apology. Seeing that projector, she doesn't feel too guilty. Once she tells Gus she caught up with Prescott, he'll know which way she came. "Hold on, Prescott! I'm on my way!" And hopefully she'll have found a shower before she does. She dove into the projector.

An eerie silence washed over the street. The scars of a very close battle fresh. The gators left in stone a monument to others that Cecelia shouldn't be underestimated. Ever. The graveyard gates parted. A bone chilling grinding of the aged hinges shaking the grounds to their bitter roots. From within the shadows of the daunting graveyard The Mad Doctor emerged, carrying the stench of death on his coat, and a irate scowl upon his brow. He spat venomously, throwing his hand to the side. The pellets that pelted Cecelia broke on the dying grass. The allure for the gators died on the soil. "It would appear I will be forced to cut loose ends from this operation."

 **To be continued.**


	15. Searching For Answers

**Searching For Answers**

 **xxx**

 **(During Path Toward Truth)**

Oswald and Mickey wandered Mean Street South. The crowd that rushed to praise The Mad Doctor dispersed, leaving a mess of tossed roses, leafy garlands, and...heart covered underpants. Oswald will just leave that to the cleaning crew. They have bigger messes to deal with.

Finding that Gag in the Projector Pipes raised so many questions. Told Oswald that something bigger was rotting in the core of Wasteland. Thankfully, Small Pete had been working on his subtle approaches. No one outside of him and Oswald's team knew about the sabotage. While Cecelia and Gus took their investigation to OsTown, Oswald and Mickey stayed on Mean Street South. For all they know, the saboteur was amongst the crowd that turned up for The Mad Doctor's announcement. Turns out he knows how to stop the earthquakes. That will be a big help. If Wasteland can stop shaking for longer than an hour, it'll go a long way in rebuilding their homes. Still, even if they rebuild, if they can't find who broke the projectors in the first place, all of their hard work would be for naught. That's why Oswald had a sound proof plan. Walk both the Meanstreets and see who bleeds and sweats guilt. Too bad it wasn't foolproof.

Mickey was more than willing to go along with Oswald's - uh - _plan_ for weeding out the saboteur. He didn't exactly have anything better. But, well, he felt there was much left to be desired in this idea. Oswald was storming around Mean Street South with a glare harsh enough to curl steel. Anyone unlucky enough to pass by the _Not so lucky feeling_ Rabbit would be assaulted with this hair raising glare. They'd be stopped in the tracks, then would break into brisk walks to escape. Anyone happening on their merry way was locked in Oswald's crosshairs. He went so far as to leer at a happy couple. They shuffled along. Mickey thanked the Turps and Tints that he never turned that glare on him. Might make his brush runaway.

"Oswald? You okay?" Mickey nervously asked.

"Oh just peachy, Mick." His sarcasm dripped like venom. A cowman passed by, stopping as Oswald's glare found him. "I'm just trying to figure out who SABOTAGED THE PROJECTORS!" He placed hands on his hips and jerked forward, hardening the glare. He jumped out of his skin, taking off. Oswald's steam to continuously accuse everyone walking by was wearing on him. He felt bad. "But they're all my friends. And good Toons too!" He spoke truly. Everyone he knows is a good Toon. How can he go around blindly accusing them all. "Ohh! This isn't working. I'm no detective. Think I should ask Horace for help?"

Ah yes. Horace Horsecollar. The self appointed Detective of Wasteland. No case is too big or small, is one of his mottos. He has another about rain, sleet, or snow, but it sounded like he owned a mush dog team. He's willing to take on cases from finding a lost doll to finding the lost city of Atlantis. Which...got turned into a vacation resort. Horace was following some sort of lead at this very moment. He had that large magnifying glass to his eye and was on the trail of the cracks left by the quakes. However, _BAM,_ he forgot that he needs to look ahead while investigating and hit a shop's wall. Mickey shook his head, advising against asking Horace for any sort of help.

This is quite the puzzler. The saboteur took down the projectors before the quake hit. They used a gag from the gag factory to chew up the projector pipes. _Wait a sec!_ Mickey had an epiphany. The Gag Factory. "Say! Isn't Prescott in charge of the gag factory?" Mickey recalled. He felt a shiver run down his spine. He gets the strange feeling he's about to open his own can of worms.

"Gus and Cecelia already went to go tell him." Oswald shucked a thumb toward OsTown. Cecelia couldn't leap into the projector fast enough. "He might not be home though. He takes off a lot to oversee projects he has." Oswald's seen Prescott's project manifest. The guy knows how to stay busy. "He can be gone for days at a time."

"Well we can't wait around for him. We need to ask folks around here if they know anything." Mickey slammed a fist to his palm. The time was for action. Idling will only let the Projector Sabotager to get away.

"A lot of them have their own problems. I can't ask them to stop and help us with ours."

Mickey pondered that, having forgotten the projectors being online has put postponed work into action. Daisy's gone back to Ventureland to catch up on old segments that haven't aired. Donald's in Bog Easy prepping his boat. Copernicus went back to the Observatory. Everyone has lives outside of their own. And those lives are brightening up again. Once Mickey and Oswald come to them with word of the sabotage, who knows what will happen. That's when he had an idea. "That's why we'll help them for information. With the projectors up, I'm sure they need extra hands."

"I wish we could help ourselves." Oswald flopped depressed to a bench. He put his elbows to his knees, sinking his melancholic face into her palms. These past couple of days have been a nightmare. First the quake, the the projectors, now a friend who broke the projectors. How is Oswald supposed to fix any of this? Help his people bounce back? And racking him still is how he sounded to Cecelia. He's rally stuck his foot in it this time.

Mickey sat beside his friend, putting a hand to his slumping shoulders. "Cecelia's tough. She'll bounce back from this." He reassured, practically reading Oswald's mind.

"Mickey, I'm throwing her past in her face!" He tightened the noose choking the guilt out of him. "After I've been the poster boy for giving people a second chance!" He's become a hypocrite from all this.

"Yeah, I know." Mickey rubbed the back of his neck, craning it from the tension between those two. "But if Cecelia was truly upset, you think she would have just walked away without at least kicking you?" He quizzed with a playful quirk of his brow.

Oswald scoffed his first laugh in hours. "Not a chance." He felt himself cheer up only slightly. But it felt better. "Do ya really think she'll forgive me?"

"By the end of the day," Mickey bumped his knuckles into Oswald's shoulder, "She'll be making fun of your cottontail again."

"I hope not!" He leaned forward, twisting his tail up. It wagged and jingled like a bell. "I'm very self conscious about my cute cottontail!" He huffed gruffly and pouted. "A hero with a cute tail." He mumbled irked, pursing his lips. "Thank the Tints that Daisy isn't here for a headline." Oswald would throw himself into the abyss if that ever happened. "Woo…" He felt really inspired right now. This weight just threw itself off him and he's ready to get to work. "Alright, Mick! Let's get started!" Oswald pumped his fists. "We've got a criminal to catch, and friends that need our help. Two birds, one stone, and zero room for error!"

"Then what are we waiting for?!" He spread his arms to Mean Street. "We got plenty of friends here and on the North Side, and in OsTown. Let's go."

 **xxx**

Gus returned to the Gag Factory after Cecelia left, certain there was something they had missed. A clue to what might be up to. Not that he suspects him of treachery. No, never. He won't deny, as deduced earlier, that Prescott's disappearance was too well timed, and rather odd. All these projects, all this work, all the time he spends away from the Gag Factory. Is he trying to run away? Why? Gus and the others have done nothing but be supportive and kind to him. Prescott is instrumental in their rejuvenation of Wasteland. Without him they'd never have the projectors. And the diorama he's working on is absolutely splendid. Yes, he's still a grumpy-gus. Pardon the pun. But he'd never...ever...betray Wasteland like this. Would he? All of these projects he's taken on, not even a majority close to being completed.

"Prescott, what are you planning?" The number of jobs he's taken on, the logical deduction is that he's ensuring he spends as little time in the Gag Factory as possible. At least...that's all Gus wants it to be. After learning of his and Cecelia's ugly breakup, it can easily be surmised all this work is to choke the smoke wafting from those embers. "You aren't a traitor. You're a wounded lover. You're working hard to heal that scar." He's been getting on swimmingly with her for a while. His temperament has changed too. So why all these projects? What does he mean to do with them? "Sitting here muttering to myself won't bring me answers." He declared. He fixed the stack of files, stuffing them into a filing bag. "Maybe these sites will shed light on what's rotting in the state of Wasteland." He hopes they will. Otherwise there is going to be a confrontation Gus really doesn't want to have.

 **xxx**

It will prove beneficial and efficient to begin with the simplest tasks and ease into the larger ones. Starting small leads to big results. From and Rabbit and Mouse standpoint, anyway. Adelle at the Camera Shop was a good place to start. Seth who advertises for Adele is also a huge fan of her work. Living in Wasteland becomes mundane quite often. The sense that everyone has been everywhere and has seen all that's to be seen is as common as a leave falling in Autumn. Seldom is there the occasional awe when visiting a place and catching a glimpse of a change in scenery. Adele reinvigorates a person's sense of awe and wonder. She delves deep within Wasteland, bridges the gaps and crosses barriers to find one shred of evidence that there is more to Wasteland than meets the eye. A shady alleyway in Tomorrow City that leads to a dead end? She thinks not. She'll move the dumpsters around, kick a can, and lean to ever stone. The hand of fate will give in a reveal a secret passage. Leona's Library in the Haunted Manor? Unless Adele took a photo, no one would believe there is a passage to another theme park modeled after Halloween Town. Her best one was when she went to Mickeyjunk Mountain and she was climbing the mountains of junk. She caused a trash slide - more like an avalanche - that revealed an old arena. It got filled again when the Mountain collapsed after the quake. Adele jaunts came to a halt after the quake as well. She had to be there with Jack Kelly to look after the store. Help fix it up. After a while, with her bringing in less and less photos, the misery brought on by the quake robbed her friends and customers of their awe, wonder, and zeal. She tries to get away. Then an aftershock would hit and she'd have to rush back to the shop to find shattered frames and damaged photos. Her own spirit started to waver. Until now. Mickey already got a camera from her before. Might as well put it to good use.

Oswald and Mickey's entry was announced by the quaint jingling of the bell above the door. "Oswald! Mickey! Get to see you two!" Adele exuberantly greeted. She'd wave but she was hauling a box of broken frames from the storage closet.

"Howdy, Boys!" Jack Kelly saluted from a ladder. He was putting the finishing touches to his refurbished bookshelf. "Bring any news worth hearing?"

"Jack!" Adele laughed. Jack shrugged, returning to glossing the top of the shelf. Always hungry for a scoop. He gives Daisy a run for her money. "What brings you boys by today?" Adele set the box near a wall.

"We were hoping you could help us with an important mission." Oswald stated with a pleasant expression. He doesn't want Adele being unnerved in the midst of her own troubles. Jack and Adele paused with inquisitive stares. "I'm sure you've already heard by now. There are some strange incidents going on."

"You mean like the projectors being sabotaged." Jack muttered troubled.

"And a thief stealing scrap metal from the Gremlins." Adele added.

Mickey and Oswald groaned upset. Part of them hoped they knew nothing about that. Words travels fast. Saves them time trying to dance around the truth. "You guys are the bloodhounds of Mean Street. The bunny kids can't break wind without you guys hearing about it." A bunny child outside the shop swung a bat, smacking a current of wind. He grinned widely, bouncing his brow. Oswald deadpanned at the bunny, "Thank you, Jo-Jo." He moaned. This was no time for comedy. "We really need to know if you guys have seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. Anything at all."

"Someone coming and going. Tools lying around. A change so slight that become huge." Mickey listed off occurrences that would catch the keen eyes of Adele and Jack.

The pair hummed pensively. Jack stroked his chin, finding a familiar ring in that inquiry. Adele constantly glanced to her desk, thinking she might have something. Lightbulbs clicked on over their heads. They have exactly what these two are looking for. Probably. "Jack and I might have what you guys are looking for." Adele announced. "After the main quake, we've been going out and collecting photos of the disaster, and taking statement from victims."

"We were going to create a mural of these hard times leading to the days when our lives return to normal." Jack pulled rolled up construction paper from a bin. "One day, we want to look back on this and laugh and cheer that we survive a third catastrophe." He swept a hand to the wall. Two collages - one of the Thinner Disaster, the other the Blot's Reign - decorated the wall. He unrolled the newest prints. Blank squares and squiggles for words along a dotted path. _**Quake**_ to _**Restoration**_. It was a long, winding path. And there were any pictures or notes to show they've had a chance to get started. Mickey and Oswald coming along just set their plans in motion.

"We have to sort through a lot of photographs and reports, but we're sure we have what you're looking for." Adele reassured. Oswald and Mickey saw a pot of gold at the end of their rainbow. "While we do that, we have a favor to ask." And that rainbow has another hump. Oh well. Not like they didn't expect a catch when coming here. "There are spots around Wasteland that are prime locations. Real works of art. I need a few more to complete my Wonders of Wasteland Collection."

"I get ya." Oswald chimed in. "We get you those photos, and you give us ours."

"You catch on quick, Boss Man." Jack Kelly clicked his tongue with a wink.

"Here's a list of spots so you aren't running around for half a decade." Adele gave Mickey a paper with four locations. Disney Gulch, Rainbow Falls, Angel and Devil Monuments, and OsTown. "Bring me these, and we'll be square."

"You got it." Mickey agreed. He and Oswald didn't dally. By the time Adele and Jack twitched to get back to work, the pair of heroes were out the door and gone.

 **xxx**

One of the blueprints Gus found was designated in the basement. By what Gus can translate from Prescott's very choppy penmanship, he was in the process of building a TV. Similar to one Gus and Ortensia built to bring Mickey to Cecelia's Grandfather's workshop. There are discrepancies in the design. If he's reading them correctly, the TV won't bridge the gap that separates the Cartoon and Toon Worlds. Seems to rely on long radio waves. Almost as if the TV was built for Broadcasting. The antenna that are meant to be on the top would work to lengthen the range. He'd be able to reach radio towers all across Wasteland with this. But why? Is he planning on making a TV show? _The Wonderful World of Prescott._ Brr. Sounds grim. Once Gus gets a look at this TV, he's certain he'll be able to come up with answers to his theories. Other than that, Gus has to admit, these plans for this TV aren't bad. The technological marvels they would be able to unlock with this are boundless. He must confer with Prescott next time he sees him.

However, when Gus entered the basement, he was disappointed to find an empty space where this magnificent TV would be. Scattered tools, spilling from lubricants, and a variety of miscellaneous parts created the void where it was. By the looks of the void, the TV was huge. A jumbotron you'd find in a square. Gus ran his fingers along drag marks in the stone floor. They're old to say the least. He followed the marks, spotting divots where it would stop and go. The TV was hauled out of here in a hurry. Taken out of The Gag Factory's back entrance. He used that for all of his works he can't bring up the stairs. Came in handy after the Thinner Disaster. Prescott, honest to Turps, reassembled - from scratch - Donald's old fishing boat. No one's ever seen Donald so happy before. He and Daisy went on a date the second he got it into the thinner sea. Sailed right on off to Ventureland. There's a way there through Mickeyjunk Mountain. Don't ask how they got the boat there in the first place. Prescott will never tell.

"Why would Prescott build a TV like this?" Gus mumbled thoughtfully. Maybe Gus's joke about _The Wonderful World of Prescott_ isn't too farfetched. He can only imagine what will make it onto those airwaves. Or, for the sake of tapping into his romantic side, he was devising a new means of communicating with Cecelia. Patch things up. Those two had worse spats when they weren't a couple. They'd make up in their own unique fashion. What's going on with them now is a minor bump that they'll pass.

"Goodness. I am a terrible Gremlin." Gus sank in misery. A derisive half smile perked his sinking cheeks. What he feels, believing foremost in the worst in Prescott, is tearing him up inside. He'd never do anything to harm his friends. Seldom though they are. He wouldn't sabotage his projectors. He wouldn't use catastrophes for his own agenda. And he would certainly never do anything to harm those he saved Wasteland with. Least of all Cecelia. Gus knows all of this. He believes in it from the bottom of his non-existent heart. And yet...and yet...RIGHT THERE...in the darkest, furthest, deepest pit of his mind...he cannot shake that gnawing, drilling sensation that...that…he's dangerous.

"All of these plans…" He glanced solemnly to the rolls in his pack, "The late nights that span into several…" He can go through mounds of calendars with how often Prescott disappears, "His closed off demeanor towards everyone...and Cecelia." Gus crushed the prints for the TV, biting on his lower lip. He squeezed his eyes closed, "What are you hiding, Prescott?"

 **xxx**

 _Ding-a-ling!_ "Adele, Jack, we're back!" Mickey announced. He waved the photos triumphantly. "And we brought you souvenirs from the trip."

"Oh good!" Adele was bright eyed, and her bushy tail was wagging. She pat a spot on her table. Mickey spread the photos. Adele inspected the quality and artistry. A Disney Gulch with a pure blue paint pool river flowing through. The Rainbow Falls with the paint pooling to the dwarf monuments. The Angela and Demon halves of the caverns. And OsTown...in ruins. It can be a contrast photo. Mickey and Oswald are no artists, but she was loving what they brought her. "Yes! These are perfect!" She felt a tear in her eye. These photos bring back memories. The good and great times before this quake tore everything apart. She misses these times. She knows they'll get back to it. One day. Until then there is a torn in half street, and chasm deep cracks to sort out.

"Wow. This looks amazing!" Oswald beamed at the murals Jack was pinning to the wall. A merging of Wasteland's history of catastrophes shared to a dozen murals. _The Happy Times_ was the name of the first one. Pictures of families playing, the attractions being built, Oswald and Ortensia being sworn in as King and Queen of Wasteland, all the forgotten Toons arriving to call this place home. The Mad Doctor as a friend then traitor.

"Hey…" Oswald plucked the photo of Oswald with Goofy, Donald, and Daisy. Mickey came in close. He was elated and bothered that the Mad Doctor was in the photo with them, and Oswald. "This is the day me and The Doc put the final touches on Daisy. My crew of friends was complete."

"That's right. The Doc modeled them after my pals." Mickey reminisced. He's starting to miss them. He's not sure if he's relieved or upset that Minnie wasn't one. Relieved. He'll be relieved. Mickey pulled a picture of Ortensia playing with her bunny children. "Boy, this seems like a lifetime ago."

"No kidding."

Following up was _The Thinner Disaster_. The leviathan bottle of thinner that crashed into their world giving their home the name Wasteland. The Blot born of the mounds of paint and thinner mixing together, creating minions of himself to tear the world apart. Ortensia and Oswald taking the fight to him, only for Ortensia to end up encased in stone. That one turned Oswald away. Mickey arrived with the brush, battling the Blotlings. He and Oswald back to back, defeating the Doctor and Blot, restoring Wasteland, and bringing Ortensia back.

"I still can't believe this was two years ago." Mickey breathed. "Feels like 20." To think Mickey's little jaunt caused a calamity like that.

"Felt more like a hundred without Ortensia." Oswald moaned. His chest still tears thinking of the day he lost her. "To think I hated you for what happened. No offense."

"None taken." Mickey bobbed his shoulders. "I hated myself for a while too." Sometimes he still does.

The next one was called _The Terror Blot Reign._ The Mad Doctor bringing that monster back to life. Ghouls terrorizing the land, abducting people for nourishment for The Blot. The device known as the Terror Box setting a person's worst nightmares upon them. Cecelia accidentally, but by a given grace, being brought to their world, then she brings Mickey. The pair of them leading the charge with Oswald, Gus, Ortensia, and Prescott in tow to save Wasteland. Cecelia fell victim to The Blot's power, becoming his servant. He stole her magic to conquer Wasteland with. Cecelia took her powers back, taking out The Blot and bringing his reign to an end. And earning herself a boyfriend.

"Man…this sure takes me back." Oswald shivered. There was a photo of Gus, Ortensia, Oswald, Mickey, Prescott, and Cecelia emerging from a burning Dark Beauty Castle victorious. "When we got her outside. Her breathing stopped."

"How can I forget?" Mickey held his arm. "Really thought she was gone. Would have hated to tell her grandfather."

"Never met someone so strong...and so stubborn." Oswald laughed. Except for Ortensia. "I'm glad she was alright. And that she and Prescott buried the hatchet." Mickey would raise a glass to that one. Here's hoping those two continue their relationship.

The final mural was called, _The Quake Catastrophe._ All the way from the main quake to the projectors coming back online were their pictures posted. Adele had loads of photos on that mural, but it was obvious she wasn't nearly done. Until Oswald, Mickey, and the others solve the mystery of who sabotaged the projectors, Adele's masterpiece will remain unfinished. Possibly longer than that. Either way, it will be finished and it will be a masterpiece.

"These are magnificent, you guys!" Adele exclaimed animated. She hugged the photos to her chest. "With these I can ease into the calm during our little storm! Give my customers a good sense that _disaster_ was not all that was present." She slipped the photos into pockets in her album. Minding not to bend the edges. "They'll see how we rose like the other times, and came out stronger than ever." Oswald and Mickey felt stronger just listening to her.

"Alright, Adele, enough reveling." Jack scolded playfully. "Here ya go, boys. Just what'cha ordered." He set a portfolio to his work desk. He opened it to a series of photographs taken of the town square in Mean Street South. Oswald and Mickey weren't too sure what they were supposed to see. Just rows and rows of photographs of the gnarled street and the crumbling buildings around it. From the looks of it, they were taken pretty far away. From a rooftop. Maybe the observatory. "I figured you wouldn't see it. Here. Look at the Town Hall." Jack tapped. Oswald and Mickey leaned in, squinting hard. Jack's finger was on a big black and blue bulge.

"Hold on…" Oswald hummed. He recognizes that bulge. "Is that Big Bad Pete?"

"I think you're right!" Mickey responded. He scanned the frame by frames. In each picture Big Bad was moving along and went inside. The next row of pictures had the same sequence. Only it wasn't Big Bad who was in them. He doesn't wear a dress, or a blond haired wig. "Check this out, Oswald. It's Small Pete."

"Yeah you're right." Small Pete went inside next. Oswald was spotting a pattern by the next row. "That's Pete Pan!" He gasped at the green clad blob. He was heading inside too. Oswald and Mickey combed the photographs. The timestamps on the corner gave them a timeline. These photographs date back to a couple days after the main quake, as do the apparent meet ups with the Petes. Extra pictures showed they would be in the Hall for no longer than a couple hours. Three at the most. Then they'd leave like nothing happened.

"Jack, what are we looking at?" Mickey asked nervously.

"What we got here is a meeting of the brawn!" He replied like he was giving a headline. Oswald was about to remark. Mickey silently warned him not to quash a reporter's inspiration. "The Petes have been coming together more often than sugar and spice in a pastry." Seriously, Oswald wished he would stop. He talks too fast, and is trying too hard to sell his newspaper. "Adele was getting suspicious of these meetings and got a closer look one day." He lowered his voice to a whisper, coming in closer to the pair. "What she saw would curl even The Blot's toes." If he had any. Oswald and Mickey were on the edge of their seats with suspense. "Now you'll have to take my word on this. Adele's camera flash would have gotten her caught. Big Bad blueprints for a new ride in Wasteland."

"He what?!" Oswald cried. A new ride? He wasn't told anything about this.

"That's not the strangest thing!"

"There's more?!" Mickey's voice cracked.

"Pete Pan got to talking about a project at the Construction Site in Ventureland. And Small Pete seems thrilled that you two and your pals are busy with your hero work!"

All of this was breeding a lot of suspicion on the Petes. Those three are bad news in general. Common thugs with a tendency to cause real damage when their heads are on straight. When they're together, who knows what they are capable of. There's one Pete missing though. "Where's Petetronic?" Oswald asked irked. "He's a Pete."

"That's the funny thing. He was invited, but took off like a bat outta Hades!" He zoomed his hand like a plane. "No real surprise. He's the good Pete after all. He doesn't get along with his morally corrupt counterparts." Mickey and Oswald have to agree with him. Petetronic tries to stay as far away from them as possible. Still, the rest of the Petes have them baffled and concerned. "Thanks, Jack. Thanks, Adele. See you two around." He left the pictures with them. For the best no one else sees them.

"Thank you both!" Adele bid them farewell.

"Stay sharp, boys!" Jack wished.

 **xxx**

Oswald and Mickey stopped into the Ice Cream parlor for a cold treat. Food in their stomach will help them mull over what they've learned. Oswald drowned his thoughts in Rocky Road mixed with Cinnabon Swirl. Each lick of the cone he hummed deeply. Grudging grunts were followed by bites. "The Petes getting together. Not strange but...strange enough."

"What do ya think they're talking about?" Mickey said as he scooped a spoonful of Sherbet and Daiquri into his mouth.

"With them it could be anything." Oswald swayed his cone dismissively. He isn't kidding. Those guys don't have intellectually stimulating conversations. "I am curious about that ride, and what's happening at the Construction site."

"Funny how they wouldn't mention it to ya."

"I know. Maybe they're trying to surprise everyone?"

"I guess so. Would explain why no one's really talking about it." A very strong likelihood. But Mickey can't help feeling like they were missing something. "Do you want to go check it out?"

"Not right now. It could be nothing and we're being paranoid." Oswald proposed, licking his cone. "Besides, let's say they are up to something. Small Pete knows we're looking for a who broke the projectors."

"I hear ya. He might have told the other Petes and they're covering up their schemes."

"Exactly. We need to play this by ear and gather more intel." His next lick earned him a brain freeze. An ice cap trailed up his ears.

"And where do we find that?" Mickey suffered the same fate. The pair writhed in the brief agony, sinking relieved when it passed. "Daisy?"

"Nuh-uh! She's a gossip with lips that flap faster than a wind turbine and she chops the truth into bits!" Oswald shuddered. Tell Daisy someone is wearing a wig, she'll have all of Wasteland knowing that person is bald. In spite of the truth being they just don't like the hair they have. "The Train Conductor might be good place to go next. Everyone rides the trains these days. Who knows what he hears."

"Sounds good. Let take these ice creams to go!"

 **xxx**

" _The Substation Pumping System_..." Gus deciphered Prescott's signature chicken scratch. Every genius has their quirks. Gus is scheduling a penmanship class for him when this is over. He lowered the plans, gazing upon the marvel that is the Rainbow Caverns' substation. He never gets tired of seeing the colorful paint flowing over the hand carved rock faces. Truly a wonder of wonders. And a promise of better days to come. He wishes he can be here to play tourist. Being a tourist would be preferable to going on a hunt for a traitor.

There are markings on the plans that troubled Gus. Red circles and X's at certain junctures. Each X had a description next to it. Ventureland, Tomorrow City, OsTown - Gus was in awe of how many hundreds of pipes lead to projectors across Wasteland. Each one a different function. Alternate routes, backup power, cut offs for certain projectors. And in the center where all the pipes converge is the main power supply. Gus's knowledge of the Substation isn't extensive, but he can recognize weak points when he sees them. And the biggest weak point is the main generator for the pumps. Prescott's made numerous marks there.

"Hmm…" A list was running down the plans. Dates, times, and symptoms that seemed to have afflicted the pumping station. "Prescott jotted notes on every malfunction or blockage to ever mar the pipes." He breathed in awe. The detail was overwhelming. Gus flew to the designated pipes, running a palm over the refurbishments Prescott's applied. He's been at these nonstop for weeks, leaving not a single imperfection in their functionality, to ensure no one would lose the projectors. As hard as he tired, however, mother nature won in the end. Gus was able to see Prescott's work beneath the damage the quake left. Amazing that they still stood. But were ultimately rendered useless in the end. Yes, Jamface said the projectors went down before the quake. In spite of that, Prescott has been working tirelessly to keep them intact. "Prescott. My word!" Gus placed a hand to his bile filling mouth.

How can he lose faith in someone working so hard for their sake? He is a terrible gremlin. Worse. He's a terrible friend. "Oh, Prescott. Will you forgive me?" He hung his head. His plight dried on his tongue. "Huh?" Below him. Stray projector pipes in particularly bad shape ran with the newer piping. "Hm?" His brow furrowed. He matched the piping to what he saw on Prescott's plans. It was circled, not X'd off. Meaning it was important. "What is the meaning of this?" Gus landed upon the large piping. He ran his hands attentively to the worn, aged metal. It's neighboring pipes had been tended to. But this one is left alone? Why? Gus accidentally applied pressure. _CREAK!_ "Ahh!" The pipe slanted under him. He bobbed his nose into it. "Oww. Blast it! Oh?!" The pipe slipped off a poor welding job. Gus isn't too surprised he hadn't noticed it amongst the caked on rust. Someone went through a lot of trouble to ensure this wasn't seen. Gus lifted the loose pipe, curious of what was inside. "My word!" He gasped. Tooth marks ravaged the inside. "This is where the chatter teeth were lodged!" And Prescott had it circled on the blueprints. Does that mean he knew about the teeth? Or is it something else entirely? So many questions. The one answer he has: "This spot was important. And I'll find out why."

 **xxx**

"OSWALD! MICKEY! HEY YOU GUYS!" The train conductor greeted the heroic pair with open arms. He strode down the slope, scooping them up in a bear hug. "I'm so happy you're here! I haven't seen friendly faces in days!" He squeezed hard. They swelled up like balloons, eyes about to pop from their sockets. Through gags they tapped out. "Oh, ha, sorry! Sorry!" He set them down. They held their little chests, gasping for air. "It's just real good to see you guys. I could use your help!" The two shared shocked glances. The man must have ESP. They planned on helping him out anyway. Saved them time. The conductor lead them to his booth at the entrance. "You guys see that fna up there?" If he means the huge one above his booth creating the hurricane of air? Yeah, they see it. "The thing's been busted for a while. But I can't get up there and fix it on account I have to run this place, and I keep getting blown off the roof!" Oswald wondered what that trampoline by the giant robot head was for. Fan gets some distance. "If you two can fix the fan, I'd really appreciate it. Here's a watch sketch from the Emporium. Should come in handy." He handed Mickey a slip of paper.

"A watch sketch?" Mickey ogled it strangely.

"It's like that Fairy Sketch Cecelia has." Oswald explained. "These will slow down the space around you, let you get past spot easier." He directed attention to the one such obstacle on the roof. "You and I can waltz past that wind, and I can fix the fan, no problem." He flipped his remote with confidence. Mickey eyed the sketch impressed. Something like that will come in handy. He wished he had it back in Rainbow Caverns. Or with the robot dragon. "We'll get right on your fan for you. And then...maybe you can help us out with a problem of our own." He politely requested with a girlish bat of his eyes.

"Yeah. Shoot." The conductor welcomed. More so that Oswald would put those lashes away.

"We're looking into some weird happenings around Wasteland. If you've seen or heard anything strange recently, we'd like to hear about it."

Strange things happening around Wasteland? Oswald needs to be a little more specific. The giant robot head in the middle of the dang street is as strange as it got. Then the Haberdasher tried to make hats out of the loose bricks. Not to mention Copernicus staying up in that Observatory of his, looking for that imaginary breach to the Cartoon World. The Conductor doesn't really get around much except to be at the stations his passengers need. He isn't sure how much help he can...wait. Wait, he might actually know something. "I'm not exactly sure if it's much. I'll have to double check it." He wavered.

"What's up?" Oswald arched a brow.

"Passengers have been gossiping about something. I have a journal of all the great tales I heard from them." Mickey and Oswald are sure if it's strange he writes down everyone's personal stories, or just plain creepy. "I have train stations across Wasteland in need of repairs. Fix those and what I have is all yours." He promised. "Meet me at my station in Bog Easy when you're all finished."

"You got it." Oswald gave him the thumbs up. The COnductor nodded thankfully, then went inside the station. Oswald deflated with a dismal groan. "I feel extorted."

"Funny, given we're helping for information." Mickey snickered at the irony.

"Now I feel sleazy." Oswald will need a five hour bath to get this stench off him. Hopefully that broken fan will take the stench off.

 **xxx**

Gus took a breather from his work in Tomorrow City. The best place for it. The one place built to outlast everything. Yeah, the buildings were shaken, and a few of the island platforms sank beneath the thinner. Glass was shattered, arches crumbled and crippled, and the construction yard...that hasn't changed much. Tomorrow City was hit as hard as everywhere else. Still it remained. As Gus sat atop a crane, gazing at to the awe and beauty that is Tomorrow City, he felt a tear in his eye. The fresh air running over his face took him back to blissful days with the other gremlins. The beautiful lights glistening in the nights entranced him. Being above it all, above the destruction, he'd never think a quake hit. He needed this. It's relieves the pressure from his shoulders. Especially since he's having a hard time putting the dots Prescott's drawing together.

The next set of prints, Gus has to admit, bewildered him worse than the Haberdasher celebrating Christmas in May. The prints were more like a giant shopping list. Detail pictures with the precise measurements of what's needed. Tubing, plating, closed circuit wires, numerous car batteries, antennas - the list was too long for Gus to finish. To sum it up, Prescott had a line drawn at the halfway mark on the prints. Six rows of what he needed and in what size or length took up that entire space. Below the halfway mark was a drawing of some sort of contraption. Resembled Prescott in a way. Only it was bigger and way uglier. And is that a cannon? A mouse shaped cannon?

"I knew Prescott had hobbies, but I didn't think they went on such a large scale." He marveled. He brought the plans closer. They are cylinders drawn there. And power ports. "Is he building some sort of defense mechanism?" Gus shook his head. This is way over his head. Overwhelming to the extreme. Prescott's gone above and beyond his expectations. He's speechless. He flipped the page to see what else the meticulous gremlin had drawn up. "By the Ghosts of Wasteland's past!" Gus's cry echoed for miles. He nearly let go of the paper he was so shocked. "This is...a fortress!" He felt it was too kind, but boy did it fit the description. Dark Beauty Castle would weep in comparison. Gus can barely make out much besides the walls and defenses. Whatever it is, Prescott isn't fooling around with it. "Prescott, whatever you're doing, I hope you aren't expecting a war."

 **xxx**

Fixing the train stations was almost as easy as getting those pictures for Adele. Not as fun or lively, but a good challenge that isn't a life or death situation. Unless you count climbing onto the roof of the Mean Street South Station to fix the fan. That wasn't too fun. Mickey had difficulties getting the watch sketch to work. Wasn't too sure how to get them to work in the first place. The Conductor left out a lesson. Doubt he even knows how to sue it. Would have fixed the fan himself if he could. Mickey tired the first time, walked in front of the fan before the sketch had time to activate. Courtesy of physics, Mickey was sent flying farther than that trampoline. Good thing Oswald is one rocket of a flyer. Caught Mickey before he crashed through a window. Conveniently, the owner of the theater was there to capture every single second on his camera. The pair can't wait to see what sort of movie he makes with that. On the return trip, Mickey practiced with the sketches a few times, getting a good feel for them. By attempt ten he was a master. He and Oswald were able to walk straight across with no problems. A quick zap from the remote and the fan was running like normal again.

"That was easy…" Oswald un-enthusiastically blew on his remote. Mickey laughed at him.

The Conductor sent the boys to his next station in OsTown. Nothing too difficult here. The building collapsed into itself. Just needs to be raised and painted and it'll be good as new. The Fairy Sketch would really come in handy right now. Mickey left them with Cecelia, though. Figured she'd have a better use for them. Never has a plan backfired. That's when Oswald surprised him with the Fairy Sketches. He almost forgot about them. Cecelia left them with him before she took off for OsTown earlier. Said she isn't really using them, they're only taking up space in her pockets. Mickey has never loved their track of luck this much in his life. This sketch was easy as pie to work. A flick of his wrist and the sketch activated in mid flight. Mickey guided the sketch to the top of the roof. The sketch sprinkled mounds of dust across the top. The whole roof pulled itself up right, to sides extending like the contraptions on a toy. Mickey quick painted in the faulty beams. The apint trickled to the walls, bringing the station back to life. The people in OsTown gathered round to watch. The glimmer in their eyes as the train station was rebuilt was remarkable. Oswald absorbed this view. This is what hope looks like. He can't wait for those smiles to be permanent.

"Still feeling sleazy?" Mickey teased.

"Nope. Not in the least." Oswald puffed his chest out proudly. He was feeling like a king.

The station in Ventureland took a bit of a backseat for a while. The mysterious Construction site mentioned by Jack was on the way. The spot Pete Pan is guarding. A towering wall was built around it, barring whatever's on the other side from being seen by anyone. Not a single gap in the planks, a hole to peek through, or a single spot of weakness to remove. This site was locked up tight. Oswald and Mickey wanted to know what was happening there. Why is Pete Pan so secretive with it? They had to get inside. But when they got close, The Sprite, Pete Pan's right hand fairy, chased them off. Oswald swatted it away. She'd come back with a hammer and bobbed him one good on the head, leaving Mickey to carry a half conscious rabbit away. That lump on his head was gonna leave a mark. Good thing he wasn't really needed to help with the station. There was just a bunch of debris in the middle of the tracks. An easy fix. But the way the conductor made it sound was like a mountain fell on it. Mickey promised that it wasn't as bad as it looked. Though he isn't sure how he'd remove all the junk off the tracks. It wasn't exactly light. That's when the owner of the tiki shop came in with the answer. An Anvil Sketch. The sketch materializes a giant anvil that can crush both obstacles and enemies in the owner's way. Just what he needed to clear the way. He asked the conductor and Oswald to get back. He doesn't know how big this will be. Oswald raised a barrier around him and the conductor. Mickey called upon the power of the sketch. The awesome weight of the enormous anvil kindled his arms. With both hands he held his brush steady, lining it up with the debris on the tracks. He relinquished her hold, but brought the anvil down with incredible strength. The debris was crushed into a cloud of dust that washed over the area. As it cleared, The Conductor cheered as he saw his tracks clear and ready for work. There was just one more station to go. The one in Bog Easy. That one...was irritating beyond all measure. Not because of an obstacle, but because of the REAL REASON none of the station have even remotely been touched to be fixed.

Oswald and Mickey didn't have to go through the projectors to get there. The conductor was able to give them a ride. That's where their confusion starts. Being told all of the stations weren't operable from the get go made them suspicious. They pulled into the station with little to no problems. No debris, no collapsed building, no broken fan - nothing. What in the name of Wasteland was going on here? Then again, he asked for them to meet up with him when they were done. It's where he's kept a journal of people's gossip. So maybe there was nothing wrong with it to begin with. But it made Oswald and Mickey think: _How much time is on his hands that he can make note of everyone's personal business?_ Does he even work? He does strike them as relatively lazy.

"Thank a lot for your help, you guys! I really appreciate it!"

"No problem." Oswald waved off. "But I gotta ask." He jerked a thumb at the station. "Of all the stations, why is this the only one that's still up and working?" Oswald can see enough of Bog Easy from where he stood. Yeah, it usually looks worn down, but it looks worse than usual.

"Couldn't tell ya." He shrugged, meandering for the booth. "All I knew when I got here is that it was in one piece." Not a strange occurrence. Not everywhere broke into pieces when the quake hit. "A good thing to. This is my favorite station to come and laze the day away. Work at the station gets too hectic sometimes." Mickey and Oswald groaned under their breath, brows furrowing. That explains why nothing has gotten done. He's been fiddling away the time here. Oswald had half a mind to scold him. After he gives them what he has. "Here we go." He returned with a surprisingly thick book. Mickey shuddered at the hundreds of pages. He's really nosy. "Yeah, I remember this. A few gremlins I shuttled once were talking about a TV Show The Mad Doc wanted to start."

"A TV show?!" The pair gasped. They went all across Wasteland to learn about a TV Show? Is he kidding them? He better be! Oswald is in a serious mood to strangle something right now.

"Yep! And get this! He had a special TV made for him just for it!" The conductor revealed adamantly. "Rumor is the TV is so strong it can reach out to the Cartoon World!" Mickey and Oswald's eyes widened. _The Cartoon World._ They gasped in their minds. "Mickey, you were brought here by a TV like that, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but, how did you know that?" He asked unnerved.

"Marcus talks about it all the time with his cousin Jamface who talks with everyone else." Oswald and Mickey growled under their breath. Everyone is a freaking' gossip these days. Not that it was meant to be a secret. But geez. Can people not spread stories around? Given that the Conductor is writing down everyone's stories like a novel, that's a not likely. "Anyway, no one knows if it's true or not. I mean, come on. A TV that broadcasts shows from Wasteland to the Cartoon World?" It was enough to make him bust up laughing. "If a TV like that could be made, none of us would be forgotten anymore. We could leave this place." He moseyed on back inside the station, holding his stomach in hearty laughter. Without noticing he struck Oswald and Mickey with a wrenching epiphany.

"A broadcast to the Cartoon World." Mickey repeated in a daze.

"No one...would be forgotten." Oswald was shaking uncontrollably. His knees were knocking together. A rumor. It's just a rumor. A TV that could broadcast them to the Cartoon World was impossible. As impossible as...bringing Mickey to Wasteland with one, or a feline with immense magical power. "He can't really make something like that, can he?" His wavering voice caught Mickey off guard. He sounded broken. "Do you really think...he can...that would mean…" He touched his chest. Forgotten Toons don't have a heart in the conventional sense. Unlike Mickey and Cecelia, that which grants them an existence isn't possible for beings that the world has long cast from memory. "Mickey, it can't be true, could it?"

"I really don't know Oswald. I mean…" Mickey wavered momentarily, nibbling on his finger, "I would hope it is." He astonished even himself saying that. "That would mean you guys can come and go from here. Once the world remembers you, that is. DOn't you want that too?" Oswald shrank into himself, his ears drooping to the side of his head. Of course he wants that. More than anything. He loves Wasteland and all. But going to the outside world would be a dream come true for him. At the same time...it scares him. Why does he feel scared?

"OH YEAH! BEFORE I FORGET!" The conductor blurted, scaring the daylights out of the two heroes. Not sure if she told you yet. Cecelia passed on through a short while ago."

"She did?" The two gawked baffled.

"Yep. You'll never believe it!" He can hardly believe it himself. "These gators came out of nowhere and attacked her, and she left them limping with their tails between their legs!" It was so amazing. He wished he had a camera.

"Is she okay?!" Mickey and Oswald jumped on him, begging for a response.

"Oh, she's fine. The gators she pulverized however…" He winced pointing to the thinner swamp. Mickey and Oswald grimaced. The mentioned gators were on dunes of mud licking and bandaging wounds that would leave some good marks. And those lumps on their heads. A couple were licking and spitting up sand. And are those two made of stone? Cecelia didn't just leave them limping. She annihilated them.

"Aren't Cecelia's powers on the fritz?" Oswald quaked.

"Gus did teach her to get creative." Mickey tapped his chin with an anxious smile. "And, well," He can see her angry face, "She probably has a lot of pent up aggression to work off." An abysmal gong struck Oswald in the feels. He collapsed into the fetal position, moaning in despair. Mickey knocked himself on the head. Oswald's still feeling sore about Cecelia. "A-ANYWAY...HA-HA...Good thing Cecelia was around, huh! Even better that these guys are only injured!" Dangerous or not, no animal deserves extermination.

"Yeah. We have to put them on the endangered species list." He partially joked. "Next time ya see her tell her I said thanks."

"Yeah…" Oswald weakly waved, really hoping he doesn't have to do that so soon. "Umm...I think we should let her cool down first. Then we'll find her."

"Whatever works. She's already going to talk to Prescott about this bill he left me. Might aggravate her more." He nonchalantly showed them the bill.

"Prescott came through here?" Mickey gasped. "Come to think of it, Cecelia and Gus went to The Gag Factory." He recalled. "Cecelia must have tracked him down here to give him a heads up about the projectors."

"Oh man!" Oswald was shaking like a maraca. "If Cecelia's in a bad mood, Prescott's gonna be in a worse one when he hears about the projectors!"

 **xxx**

The missing TV in the Gag Factory Basement. The chewed to ruin piping at the Rainbow Cavern Substation. Gus has been encountering one suspicious project of Prescott's after the other. Each one creating more questions that he begged to have answered. What he came across next absolutely flabbergasted him. The next set of prints, believe it or not, took him to Mickeyjunk Mountain. Amazing right? As mentioned before, Mickeyjunk Mountain suffered a huge collapse. The projector there, any of the tunnels - the whole place was sealed off. Forever unreachable from the outside. Big surprise right? A region crafted entirely of old junk tossed to the land of no return. Guess what? Gus continues to be amazed. Right under everyone's nose in the caverns, just past the Devil side through a cave system, Prescott carved himself a tunnel that went straight into Mickeyjunk Mountain. The entrance let out near the mound where The Blot's bottle stood. A miraculous feat that it was still standing.

"Why on earth would Prescott ever come here?!" Gus boomed. He took a handful of dust and sprinkled it to the hollow wind. This place was a ruin. And it holds one of the darkest fears The Blot and Mad Doctor would cherish as a sweet to siphon from him. The site of where Cecelia was stolen from him. From atop The Blot's old prison, Gus can see the site he and the other gremlin worked and slaved to bring erect crumbled and brought to a pitiful collapse. A loss he got over real quick. Within that forsaken site, The Blot tricked Cecelia and absconded with her back to Dark Beauty Castle. He wove a sinister web from which she was long snared in, sinking his fangs into the darkest recesses of her heart where the most scarring of nightmares resided. Neither he nor any of the others will ever forget her face when he got to her. Prescott certainly hadn't.

Gus saw no reason to linger any longer here. Prescott's reason for coming here are his own. Likely to overcome the trauma of last year. He turned his back on this ruined land. A piece of junk keeled under him. "GAH!" Gus plunged into a wild tumble down the mountain of garbage. He violently shifted his body to slow the fall, digging his hands to bring himself to a stop. He skipped off a mounted long board, sent hurtling in a plummeting arch. He dropped into a pile of shredded papers. A nice break from the fall, but it did nothing to ease the bumps and bruises he'll have.

"Grr! This is why I don't come here!" He rubbed his sore...everything. He's going to feel this on his old body for weeks. "Prescott! Always leading me into trouble!" He grumbled. He pulled himself free, dusting off the paper shreds. Just his luck some of them used to be for paper mache. He placed a hand to a support column, plucking a nail that was lodging in the sole of his boot. Good thing that's all that was stuck inside him. "Huh? What's this?" His head craned up. He was balancing to a metallic arch. A strange place for it to be. Could it have been an accidental occurrence? Marcus watched a cliffside crumble and resemble Jafar once. Gus inspected the archway, completely mesmerized by it.

"Where did this come from?" He pondered. He trailed his hands to the bottom. The columns were firmly imbedded in the soil. "Who put this here?" He crept past the arch, coming to a broken off the ledge. A swift drop into the nothingness churned his stomach. He quickly took his eyes from that deadly drop, staring straight ahead. His jaw dropped, and his eyes went so wide they almost fell out of their sockets. His whole body went completely numb, his arms quaking to the brink of crippling. "What...in...what happened here?!" Just when he thought he'd seen all he needs to see, Gus feels himself rooted once more. Just a leap of faith away form him on another patch of island in this forgotten ruin, was a plethora of junk ravaged and sundered by jet black scorch marks. Gaping holes piercing the very ground to the abyss below. Dozens of cars impaled halfway into the ground. Piles of junk that were sent up in flames. Ashes that contained metallic pieces. Sprouted black prisms of ice tearing sheer metal to ribbons. Splotches of thick gunk smeared all around. Gashes tearing the hardest of stone to ribbons. Never has Gus seen such a sight that can fill his veins with petrifying stone. Not since finding the bodies of Bog Easy's people riddled to the Manor Grounds. All after their worst nightmares were sucked clean from their heads.

Gus drifted aimlessly to the island, trembling in pure horror of what he is seeing. This wanton destruction...it plagued Wasteland's other areas one too many times in the past. As he past it, he caught the nauseating aroma of fresh burns. Not fresh as in seconds ago, but not spanning too far either. His legs crippled under him, bringing him to his hands and knees. Eyes filled with horror and woe. "This is...awful…" He whimpered. This is only a tunnel walk away from OsTown. Whoever, or whatever, caused this, they could decimate Wasteland worse than the quake ever did. "This looks...an awful lot like...what Cecelia is capable of." Gus isn't insinuating Cecelia found her way here and practiced. She never had the time. Not to mention, if she did know about the tunnel in the Devil Cavern she would have insisted upon it instead of the Angel side. But no one else is Wasteland has this sort of potential. For crying out loud, a dog was flipping and floating around a spire next to him. No one has magic. No one...except...Prescott. "Cecelia's book." He keeps forgetting. Prescott had Cecelia's book. This could be...but why would he… "NO! NO! The Mad Doctor could have easily done this!" Gus wrapped himself in denial. The Mad Doctor doesn't have magic. He has science. And science can rival magic. "Prescott didn't do this! Prescott wouldn't do this! Prescott...please...tell me this isn't you!" He begged and begged with his hands to his head.

 **xxx**

Mickey and Oswald got a lift back to OsTown. Was a lot faster than taking the projectors. And it let them kick their tired little feet up. Oswald managed to get in a few short winks before they pulled into OsTown station. The booming voice of the PA System woke him from a nearly dead sleep. Their backs cracked, and they stretched as far as their limbs would before the popping started to hurt. Mickey shielded his eyes from the glaring sunlight. He didn't think they were on the train that long. That, or they really need a longer nap. Maybe they can get in a few extra winks at Mickey's place. With the thinner spout plugged by the Oswald and Mickey statues, they can finally go in and out of the place.

"OYE! YOU TWO! OVER HERE!" So much for their nap. Rigger Greene, one of the few pirates from Ventureland who doesn't want to cleave others to the brisket, stormed toward Oswald and Mickey. The ground quaked and bounced them. He towered with a menacing glare, that missing eye of his would leave the bunny children stone cold still. "I hear you two be lookin' fur any information on the strange tides crashin' to our shores!" Mickey and Oswald didn't pretend to be shocked he knows what they're up to. Repairs are in dire need, but everyone has a split second to look for what's the current 411 around Wasteland. So far, Mickey and Oswald, and Horace and Tedworth, are the talk of Wasteland. Tedworth's turning the place over looking for his teddy bear. "It just so happens that dingbat cousin of mine, Moody, might have just the information yer lookin' furr!" He grinned rather sinisterly.

"Oh yeah?" Oswald replied skeptically.

"And what do you want from us in return?" Mickey didn't hesitate. He's dealt with these pirates before. They don't do a dang thing without assurances in return. Want a cannonball? Better be able to provide a cannon with ten cannonballs in return.

"Har-har! This one knows business!" Rigger slapped Mickey on the back. He hissed at the sting. Oswald winced at the handprint. "You'll be helpin' me kill two birds with one cannonball!" He hoisted the pair of his shoulder, marching for the blue house across the thin stream of thinner. They pouted irritably. Being short is really starting to get on their nerves. "Now, me cousin Moody took a knock to the head during the quake. Hasn't been able to recall his own name since then."

"He has amnesia?" Mickey gasped.

"Of the worst kind!" He snarled. "But before he lost his marbles, he was goin' on a long journey to be on the straight and narrow. Turn his life around and become an…" He gagged and shuddered, "Up-standing-cit-i-zen!" He played out a dramatic vomiting into the bushes. Being a model citizen of society - What pirate worth their salt ever wants that?! Moody apparently. "Now if he weren't mah cousin I'd keelhaul him and hang 'im by his pinkies! I've even tried showin' him pictures of grand places so he'd come back adventurin' with me!" He sighed somberly, "But Moody ain't havin' it. His head may be gone, but he won't forget none that he wants to live the simple life in his golden years."

"What's wrong with that?" Oswald questioned harshly.

Rigger growled animally. He threw Oswald and Mickey to their rumps. "What's wrong?! WE'RE PIRATES, YOU DINGBATS!" He knocked the apparently idiotic rabbit on the noggin. "We're supposed to crave adventure, yearn for the open thinner sea, and hunger for the pillage and plunder of the lands beyond!" Now more than ever Oswald and Mickey are grateful there's one less pirate wanting the pirate life. "Agh...instead he wants to create a humble life for himself and spend his remainin' years as he sees fit." He rubbed the back of his neck, irresolute one his cousin's choice. "I love the man. I really do. Which is why I want yer help in gettin' his memories back."

"Rigger, you said Moody has information for us." Oswald jumped back to brass tacks. "How does helping him get his memories back help us?"

"Talk to 'im and you'll see." Rigger knocked on Moody's door, opening it to the two heroes. Oswald and Mickey entered the house cautiously, uncertain of what they're going to encounter. Imagine their surprise finding a lackadaisical Moody lying down on his couch. He was sighing dismally, moping around with not a single zeal glint in his body. He had his trusty musket lying on top of him. The safety on, thank goodness. He stirred an aimless finger to his floor, wishing a stroke of Lady Luck's blessing to come to his lap. The atmosphere in the house was soaked in despair. Mickey and Oswald felt like bawling their eyes out it was so potent. "Hey, Cousin, these two wanna help ya unscramble yer noggin!" Rigger knocked to his own head.

"REALLY?!" He rocketed straight up, beaming gleefully like a school child. "That's great, Lads! Thank ya so much!" A complete 180 that almost got Mickey and Oswald running for their lives. Better to escape now than catch what he has. "Now I'm sure Rigger's told ya how my head got split in the first place! Said that safe hanging from the Gag Factory landed on me during the quake." Rigger didn't mention the safe. Now that he mentions it, Mickey wondered what was different about the building. He wonders what happened to that thing. "He told me you lads are in need of what's what around Wasteland. I told him...I THINK...I have what you can use. If I could remember." He scratched his head. He pulled his bandana off. Oswald and Mickey cringed at the lump onto of a lump on his head.

"Is...there anything you DO remember, Moody?" Mickey asked tenderly, trying hard to not stare.

"Bits and pieces." He pressed on that lump. "YOUCH!" His memories are gone. Looks like his common sense went with it. Well it worked. Lights were lighting upstairs. "There were...these real pretty, sparkly lights that would be comin' from that there factory across the street." Mickey arched a curious brow, glancing back at the Gag Factory. Bright lights don't seem too strange to him. "And I'm sure I be seein' that guy in the white coat and a bald head hangin' around that purple Gremlin that lives there."

"Bald guy in a coat?" Mickey repeated.

"Purple gremlin?" Oswald touched his chin. A lightbulb pinged on over his head. "Do you mean Prescott and The Doc?!"

"I think so…" Moody mumbled. Mickey and Oswald shared glances. Prescott and The Mad Doctor are hanging out? They aren't sure if that's news or just strange. "I know it don't sound like much, but I'm tellin' ya I know it's important! I remember bein' scared outta me wits because of them!" He poured his plight to them, almost on his knees.

Mickey and Oswald groaned skeptically, nibbling on their lips and fingers, still on the fence about this. Then again, The Train Conductor incidentally gave them a good piece of information. Why not give Moody the benefit of the doubt. They nodded firmly with smiles. "What do you need from us, Moody?" Oswald offered.

The amnesiatic pirate's eyes glossed with joy. He knew he could count on them. "Let me see…" He drummed on that lump again. The anticipation of pain was torture. "There's a house that's blue...but it ain't blue no more. If that makes sense." In truth, it really doesn't. "If you can bring me a picture I'm sure I can connect the stars on that one." That's if they can find a blue house that isn't even blue anymore.

"He be talkin' about his own house." Rigger translated. "When that statue in the square left, the thinner spout hit Moody's house first then moved." Explains a bit. Mickey gulped in self derision. When walking up to Moody's house, it was a dingy, pasty, grey color. He thought that was how the house looked. He blushed dumbly. "Paint in the house and get a picture fur 'im."

"I'm on it!" Mickey darted outside, leaving a small dust cloud. Oswald watched him scrambling from the window. Gallons of paint filling in the lost Toon on the house. He splashed the windows to at one point. He dashed side to side, getting every speck of the house. Oswald was embarrassed himself. He's seen so much thinned Toon in his lifetime that he's considered it a natural part of structures. Mickey rushed back inside flush out of breath, stretching a photo to Moody. "Here...ya go...WOOF!" He collapsed to his stomach.

Moody studied the picture long and hard. The bluest of blue houses in all of OsTown. A tankard of thiner atop a tower right next door. A green yard that hasn't grown a flower in ages. "BLIMEY! It be me house! Can't believe I forgot me own home!" He laughed at himself. Rigger snorted under his breath. Not out of malice. Moody paused as he admired the photo. Everyone could see it in his eyes. Lights are coming on in bunches in that head of his. Just not enough. "Alright...the next thing I remember is…" ' _Lights...lights...hands from a roof...a purple and white thing talking...their faces blurred..._ ' Moody groaned disquieted by the throbbing in his head. The memories piling up on his busted head created pressure. "Creatures of the fairest blue...hoppin' around outside...their mother's home." Blue creatures. Mickey wondered if they lived in mushrooms. "I don't remember no more."

"Ooh! I know this one!" Oswald adamantly waved a hand. "Mine and Ortensia's bunny children! They're always hanging out in front of her house!" Mickey nodded and went for the house. Sure enough, like Oswald said, three of the kids were hanging out in the front yard. Aww. They were sleeping so soundly. How cute. Mickey kept a good distance so the flash wouldn't startle them. He took doubles for Ortensia and Oswald. He returned with the photos, giving one to Moody and the other to Oswald. "Aww. Thanks pal!" Oswald gushed.

"Aww! Look at the wee little'ins! Not a care in the world!" Moody blushed like a doting mother. Rigger had to turn away. "I used to read them bedtime stories, you know?" Oswald's head tilted. He never knew that. Rigger's stomach can only take so much of this mush. They need to hurry. "Okay...the next thing...umm...what was it…?" ' _The purple thing...Prescott...yeah. Prescott. Always huggin' somethin' in his arm. The Mad Doc - his white coat - always with him. Arguin'. But...they ain't in OsTown. Looks messy. Super messy._ ' "You two...made of stone...standin' in the middle of the square." Moody pointed at Oswald and Mickey. That one didn't even need a second thought. Mickey stood right at the door and snapped a quick photo of the statue of him and Oswald. Mickey flicked the picture to Moody. He squealed, jumping up and down. "Blimey! It be the statue of you two!" He's acting like he found the lost treasure of treasure island. "You boys are always lookin' out for us little folks! Treat like we're people. Never forgetting us!" That warmed their hearts to hear.

"Moody! Tell me yer head's in one piece!" Rigger barked, getting sick of all this mush.

"Almost there, Cousin! Promise!" Moody motioned his hands for his cousin to relax. Rigger showed his missing teeth at him, growling like an animal. "Okay! Okay! Last one! This might be what get's me head back on straight!" He just has to comb through a few things. "Me mum's name be Gizella...me dad was Snarly…" He never forgot his cousin Rigger. All those adventures they went on. Adventures...adventures… ' _A long tunnel...red and hot...mountain of garbage everywhere. Lights that blaze like cannon fire._ ' More and more the pieces were coming together. He just needs one more push. "The...the OsTown sign. I remember it and the sky all painted in! I love that thing! That should be the ticket!" Mickey already left to go get what he needed. "Wow. He's really into this."

"We have a lot of work to do, Moody. We have to move fast." Oswald explained tenderly.

Mickey was barely go a minute before coming back with a photo of the sign. "By the sea goddesses, you got it!" Moody cheered. He ran fingers over the photo. A tear rolled down his cheek. "I love this sign. I love OsTown! The folks here always be good to me, no matter what I did back in the old days!" Rigger rolled his eyes, bobbing his head. The townsfolk love Moody now that he's changed his ways. He's made quite the life for himself here. Yeah, Rigger wants him back with him on the seas, going on adventures with him. But seeing him content, and happier than a clown at a birthday party. Rigger, in good conscience, can't take him away from that. "Whoa a minute! Hold on! I...I remember! Yes...yes...YES!" Moody was drilling fingers in his skull. He had Rigger, Mickey, and Oswald on the edges of their seats. "I got it! The Mad Doc and Prescott! Chums they've become! They've been goin' on adventures into Mickeyjunk Mountain!"

"THEY WHAT?!" Oswald shouted.

"That's impossible! Mickeyjunk Mountain is caved in!" Mickey protested.

"Har-har! Once a pirate always a pirate!" Rigger balked proudly. "Boys, let me tell ya! There ain't no such things a _blocked_ for a pirate!" He puffed up his chest with pride. "We alway find a way into that which cannot be traveled! It's how we outsmart pursuers and others who would thwart us!" He winked. Explains why pirates have so much hidden loot everywhere.

"Yep! And I followed them straight to that path one day!" Moody boasted. "See, I've been seein' those two spend a lot of time together! Always goin' on and on about gettin' what they're deserved and stuff. Got me nervous." He clutched at his chest. "I was especially nervous when I'd see them leave OsTown one way, then they'd come back from a spot behind the Train Station."

"The station?" Oswald glanced to it. "What's so special over there?"

"I'll tell ya." Moody lowered his voice to a whisper. "There's a manhole cover there. A tunnel that leads right into Mickeyjunk Mountain!" Oswald and Mickey felt their cheeks slip off the bone. A secret entrance into the mountain, literally inches from everyone's feet. Surely the Conductor has seen that hole. Maybe others. Then again, after the previous incidences, everyone's kept their curiosities suppressed. Besides, it's just a manhole in their eyes. Unless they're Moody or Rigger, they aren't looking for what isn't eve there. "They used that manhole to come back here bunches of times after the projectors stopped working. But I was always wonderin' why I saw them leave from it, but never enter it. So I followed 'em." He crouched like a burglar. "I kept real quiet. The air between them was so thick I nearly choked." He grabbed at his throat. Rigger forgot to warn how dramatic he is. "They used that there DEC thing to get to Rainbow Caverns. Like Sparrows they pulled a quick turn and went through a passageway that took us to the Devil side of the caverns!" Oswald really needed to write all this down. Secret passage, ways into regions he thought were blocked. This can help Wasteland in more ways than one. "O'course I thought about turnin' back. But those two had me reachin' for me side arm. Somethin' just wasn't right. Imagine me surprise when I followed them some more, and found me'self in a tunnel that let out into Mickeyjunk Mountain."

"No way!" Mickey and Oswald gasped.

"Yes way!" Moody poked their noses. "And that ain't the scariest part." He motioned them in closer. Rigger and the boys knelt in, stretching an ear. Moody ensured out of paranoia that no one was nearby. "I got in as close as I could, wantin' to know what these blokes were up to. I don't like secret meetin's. Especially when I've got upstandin' neighbors." He snarled. Oswald can respect that. "The Mad Doc was goin' on about _visitors_ comin' to Wasteland. Said they'd ruin everythin'. He wasn't happy. That's when Prescott said, _I took care of one._ " He failed miserably to mimic Prescott's accent. It took an insurmountable amount of willpower to not snort. " _SHE'D never come without IT!_ " He finished, regardless of the snickers, stressing the lack of pronouns. "Not sure what IT or SHE was, but I can tell ya he was hopin' someone would stay home!" She will never come without it? Wanting someone to stay home? Mickey muddled this information, finding a familiar taste on the tip of his tongue. Prescott made sure...a particular visitor wouldn't be able to come. _Could it be?_ "Prescott then said THE OTHER wouldn't be a challenge alone, but that HE would definitely come." Again, no pronouns. "The Doc agreed it would be for the best. _I don't want anyone ruining my wild ride."_ His next impression didn't bring a single smirk to Oswald and Mickey's faces.

These HES and HERS, talks about visitors - Oswald's stomach tied itself in knots. Mickey and Cecelia...they're the only visitors."What about the sparkly lights?" Oswald pressed on. "The ones you saw coming from the Gag Factory."

"That I don't know." Moody regretted to inform him. Even with his memories back, he never got a good look at what caused those lights. "All I remember is, at night sometimes, the Gag Factory will be lit up like Tomorrow City on Fourth of July. Then it would go dark as Cap'n Hook's humor." He added with a dramatically low rumbled, shadowing his brow for effect.

"That is dark." Mickey grumbled.

"No kidding." Oswald found himself turning on lights.

"Prescott'll come out of the Gag Factory exhausted. I'd be outside at nights sometimes, seein' him ready to kick the bucket." He almost called for an ambulance a few times. "He'd start mumblin' some other stuff. Like, _why is this so hard?_ Or, _how does she make this so easy._ Stuff like that. But he started to catch on that I was watchin'." He shrugged his hands. "Haven't seen those lights since."

"When did you last see the lights, Moody?" Oswald quizzed.

"Let me think a sec…" He raked his head. It's a bit blurry, but he thinks he can recall. "I know it was before my noggin took a knockin'. Oh yeah! Before the main quake hit! The Gag Factory was lightin' up the night!"

"That was a couple of weeks ago." Oswald elucidated. "Wonder what it could have been." Anything, really. Oswald's gotten complaints about those lights. And a lot of noise.

"There was...another time too." Moody mumbled. "A couple days ago...real big one!"

"What?! Days?! Are you sure?!" Mickey gasped. He and Cecelia just got there a couple days ago.

"Yep. My head was scrambled, but I remember clear as day!" He took them outside, pointing at the sky. "This HUGE arm came firin' from that Factory like ball from a cannon! Ripped the sky clean apart!" He twisted the air and tore it, creating the visual of the clouds and sky splitting. Mickey and Oswald had the Toon melt clean off of them. _An arm...that pierced the sky...coming from the Gag Factory. CECELIA!_ "Not sure if anyone else saw it! It lasted only a couple minutes! But boy did I feel like years passed!" Moody closed his eyes, able to recount every second of that instance. "I only remember 'cause I like star watchin'! And that arm was like nothing I'd ever seen-" Moody wasn't able to finish. Mickey and Oswald took off into his house. The slam echoed, scaring Clarabelle's fresh souffle into a sinking mess. "Hmm. Wonder what their hurry is?" Rigger shrugged.

 **xxx**

Oswald planted hands to the table. His head was hung, his body resisting every urge to empty his stomach onto the floor. He and Mickey kicked Practical Pig and the Telephone out. They can't have them hearing any of this. The terror on their faces was consuming the color. Their heads are whirling without end. Every ounce of them was praying this was wrong. But Moody has no reason to lie to them. "A huge arm...ripping the sky apart?!" Oswald's voice cracked. He sucked his lips in, shaking his head violently. He can't say anymore. It would mean...confirming what he's been baselessly stating.

Mickey swallowed his own apprehension. It has to be said. "Cecelia said a hand came out of Wasteland and that's what stole her magic!" He declared hard, but with a shaky voice.

"And it came from the Gag Factory?!" Oswald clawed at his scalp. "The lights...the arm...The Doc...all of it points to the Gag Factory! ALL OF IT!" He dropped to his knees. He was tearing himself apart. He can't bring himself to accept it. He just can't. Cecelia she...she would be heartbroken. "This can't be happening! It just can't!"

"Oswald...you aren't thinking…" Mickey pleaded, in spite of the fact that he too was thinking the same thing.

"Mickey...I...I don't…" He doesn't want to. He can't. But...after everything they've learned...the projectors malfunctioning...the spellbook. There is no other explanation. "Prescott...he...he…" He squeezed his eyes closed, bowing his forehead to the floorboards, "Oh Mickey...Prescott's...the one...who took Cecelia's powers!" Tears ran down his cheeks, and his spirit tore in half. He can only imagine...what will happen to Cecelia when she learns of this.

 **To be Continued.**


	16. Closer and Closer and Closer

**Closer and Closer and Closer**

 **xxx**

A lone projector in a stark alleyway rippled. Cecelia launched in an Olympic flip from the projector, landing with her feline grace in a victorious pose. "HAH! That's much better!" She sighed refreshed. She flipped her hair with both hands, sprays of water glittering in the dim ambiance. She patted at her lightly dampened figure, flicking her tail and ears free of lingering water. The projector she traversed came with a lake she was able take a quick dip in. A Toon inside threw some soap on her. She fresh, clean, and completely free of that stinky gator lure stuff someone hit her with. Whoever that was, it was clear to Cecelia they really didn't want her making it this far. And when she finds that person, she's gonna drown them in the bog.

"So, this is the famous Blot Alley." She announced to herself, taking half steps in further. Basked in a cool night like the rest of Bog Easy. A bit more comfortable. The projector let her out on a high ledge. Blot Alley looked like everywhere else in Wasteland. Minus the gaping gorges. "Kind of...quiet." Quiet...quiet...quiet. He echoed sent chills down her spine. It passed fast. Blot Alley must be a misnomer. She doesn't see a single Blotling anywhere. She feels moderately disappointed. So far her trip here is feeling anti-climactic. Yeah, she survived a deadly battle against a harrowing odd of alligators. The most exciting part about this stalker mission of hers. But the way Gus described Blot Alley, she was expecting Blotlings up the wahzoo running amuck and leaping across rooftops. Heck. She'll settle for one of those Ghouls from last year. "On the bright side, it's pretty." She half smiled at the different colored festive lights strung along. Bog Easy knows how to look good. Minor cracks in the foundation, nothing that would make someone think a travesty hit. Cecelia felt her spirits rising already.

" _Garragghaah..._ " Well, it was a nice feeling while it lasted. That gurgling snarl can only belong to one particular creature. She's just really hoping someone below has an empty stomach.

Cecelia crouched to all fours, her tails and ears erected. She stalked to the ledge, her ears shifting as the gargling became louder. She smoothed to her stomach. She poked her head out from behind the ledge. Sure enough, making her nauseous, there are the Blotling that live in Blot Alley. "Eww! They really are here!" She groaned. Spatters idled right in the middle of Cecelia's only way out. The gibberish flying from their mouths made zero to no sense. Yet they were laughing their heads off and sipping tea. Ooh. One of them had coffee. If they weren't such homicidal nuisances, Cecelia would think they're having a Sisterhood Club meeting. "Great. How am I supposed to get by them now?" Maybe she can zap them into bricks. Spatters aren't exactly gators or Splahdooshes.

A clang of metal perked her feline ears. She spun round in a feral crouch, her hand to her spellbook like a sword in its sheath. Cecelia was taken aback sound came from beside her, but there was just this giant window. She scanned the area, looking for what could have possibly made that sound. She peered into the alley thinking one of the Blotlings made that noise. Nothing. The noise came again. It was from the window. Cautiously she approached, her hand never leaving her spellbook. Nothing but blackness met her from the window. She squinted hard, but didn't see farther than, well, the glass pane. A red aura gloved her palm. She placed it flush to the window. A red light cast into the darkness. Some old lounge chairs, broken signs, and shattered potted plants, but nothing that looked like it would make the sound she heard. Ooh! There was an old drum set in there. Cecelia loves the drums. But those are beside the point. She turned back to her current issue. The alleyway full of Blotlings.

A pale face appeared. "Boo~"

"REEOW!" Cecelia screeched, launching like a rocket.

Ghost Ian's entire body appeared with his head. He caught the loose bits of hair Cecelia lost. "BAH-HA-HA! OH MAN! DAT WAS A HOOT!" He wiped a tear away. "Or should I say," He smirked at the girl swinging on a high up sign. Cecelia clung claw and leg to the sign, quaking like a maraqa, "A purrfect scare!"

"IAN! THAT'S NOT FUNNY!" Cecelia tried to scream between her screaming.

"Yer right. It was HIGH-LARIOUS!" He held his port belly, rolling in midair in hearty laughter. He hasn't scared anyone that great since Donald and Goofy spent the night in the manor. Ian floated up and helped her back to solid ground. "Good tuh see yas again, Kitten Cat! Lookin' good. But, uh, didn't ya used tuh be taller?" He took a hand, measure the severe difference in stature there.

"A long story that I can't really explain." With all that's been happening, that's been the farthest thing from her mind.

"Fair enough." Ian raised his hands, not wanting to press the situation. "But, um, can ya confirm somethin' fur me?" He glanced left and right suspiciously, motioning Cecelia in close. "Yer magic. Is it really gone?" He whispered.

"How do you even know about that?!" She shuddered.

"Small world. People talk...a lot." Ian deadpanned at the gossiping chickens he comes across. "So it's true."

"Not really…" Cecelia groaned. No point in really dancing around it. "I still have magic, just not like I did before. Someone in Wasteland stole it. And that person might very well be the same one who sabotaged the projectors."

"Got any leads?!" Ian collapsed into himself, popping out with boxing gloves. "Do I get tuh whack dat someone?!" He skipped his feet, throwing a few punches. A bell tolled on his round.

Cecelia giggled behind a hand. "I'm following a lead right now." She passed him a towel and water bottle. "Hopefully I'll have more answers than questions by the time I'm done." And hopefully Prescott is falls under the purview of bad timing. "Anyway, enough about me. Ian, I'm curious about something." She pointed to the alleyway full of Blotlings. "Do you really look after these guys?" Her skepticism bordered on disapproval.

"You bet I do!" He announced proudly, a fist to his chest. "After de Blot went sleepin' with the fishes, the Spatters and such were left helpless. Attacked by other Wastelanders. Da poor little guys got a bum rap because of their boss." _And because they try to kill everyone._ Cecelia mentally huffed. "So I decided tuh herd 'em all here and teach 'em how to be friendlier. It's a..." He itched his head with uncertainty. A Spatter was passing by a cardboard cutout of a gremlin. It chomped the head clean off, burping loudly with a full gullet. Ian and Cecelia winced, "It's a slow process." He chuckled nervously.

Cecelia won't debate the serious understatement. "But why bring them here?"

"Blot Alley is one of da few places in Wasteland dat doesn't get much foot traffic since the Thinner Disaster." Cecelia bobbed her head in agreement. She's noticed a few places in Wasteland that are like that now. Not a bad plan. "I'm also borrowing The Fort. A nice housing complex for da little guys."

"Can't imagine anyone's happy about that." Cecelia mumbled sardonically. Fort Wasteland is an icon for Wasteland. A favored attraction for the people. Having it be overrun with Spatters after everything that's happened. It's a wonder riots haven't broken out. Cecelia then shook her head. "As long as no one's getting hurt, I say more power to you." Who is she to disparage helping those with a bad rep? She climbed down from the wall, and crept to the corner to take a second peak around the corner. The sight of Spatters running up and down the alley churned her insides. On the upside, Blot Alley looks amazing at first blush. "And it looks like you're doing amazing."

"Thanks, kid."

Cecelia knelt to the ledge. All but two Spatters cleared out, idling with a few more of their obscure jokes to scoff at. One caught Cecelia out of the corner of his eye. Both gawked in dismay of her. Cecelia quirked a brow, her hand inching for her spellbook. The Spatters snarled murderously, charging for her with bared teeth, their tiny arms and hands flailing. Cecelia's drew a hand back, " _Inga-_ " Ian snatched her by the collar right when a red glow gloved her hand. She bounced on her butt, Ian's hand over her mouth stopped her from yelling at him.

"Shh! Easy kid!" He urged her to stay put. He snuck to the ledge, catching a glimpse into the alleyway. The Spatters snarled hatefully, longing for the child Ian was protecting. The Ghost Brother glared at them, waving a hand for them to leave. The Spatters spat in disgust, marching off. Ian exhaled with relief. "Okay. They're gone." He lent her a hand, bringing her to her feet. "Sorry 'bout dat."

"Not a problem." She dusted herself off. Her butt hurt a little. "I don't think they like me too much." She partially joked.

"Can ya blame 'em? You did kinda blow up their boss." A kind term for obliterating him into a snowfall of red hearts. Nearly lost her own heart in the process.

"Their boss was going to kill everyone." Cecelia calmly, but with a jaded edge, replied. Her crimson eyes sharpened like daggers. A black flame gloved her hand. She hid it well that she was astonished by the color. _Guess my emotions continue to rule my magic._ That's fine with her. She needs to work of some irritation. "I don't suppose I can send them to join their boss."

"Nu-uh!" Ian swatted the hand, snapping her out of her rage. She mentally thanked him for that. He wagged a finger, "You wanna get through, you gotta respect da process!" He poked her forehead, twisting the finger.

"Which is?" She responded irritated.

"I'm lookin' out for these guys. They're my responsibility, and I take my responsibilities seriously." He forewarned. "Hurt even one of dem," He came in close with one leering eye open, a finger erect in her face, "And you'll be de next ghost at the manor." Cecelia swallowed nervously. She took a half step back. The one time she's willing to use a projector. "Just kiddin' ya." Ian lightened, laughing his head off. Cecelia's chest fell as her breath was freed. "But seriously, Cee-Cee, can ya leave duh little guys be." A bolt from the blue struck Cecelia in the core. _Cee-Cee._ She gasped. It's been...a long time...since she's heard that name. ' _My little Cee-Cee._ ' The voice of her father chimed. "What? Do ya not like Cee-Cee?" Ian faltered.

"No, no, it's not that." She lowered her head, obscuring her sorrow. That figure who once beamed a smile as warm as the sun upon her, who would hold her in arms that a God couldn't pry apart. "My dad...he called me that...a long time ago." My little Cee-Cee, he would always call her. It annoyed her, and he would laugh. He loved her...unconditionally. A tiny smile stretched her lips, then faded. _Until you decided to hate me._ She took a deep breath through her nose, lifting her head high as she groaned aloud. "Man. Chasing Prescott isn't supposed to be a jaunt down memory lane!" She pouted. Unknown to her, her eyes were glossy.

"Oh, you're lookin' for Prescott? I saw headin' for Club 13 two minutes ago." Cecelia was taken aback. Two minutes ago?! "Don't know why. Petetronic doesn't let anyone in who ain't on the list." Ian leaned an elbow to the an invisible surface, crossing his legs in bewilderment.

"No need to worry about that one. Prescott doesn't do clubs." Cecelia giggled.

"Sounds like a boring guy."

"Only to those not dating him." She winked. "And he doesn't do clubs because I suckered him to go to one."

"Cheeky and sneaky. I might fall in love wit'cha." He teased.

"See you around, Ian." She leapt to the street, meandering cautiously into uncharted territory.

Ian laughed derisively at himself. He floated carefree, admiring the young woman marching off for her love. "Prescott, you lucky dog, you!" Ian wound himself into a tight ball and popped, disappearing into the night of the Alley.

From the shadows behind the large window pane, The Mad Doctor strode partially into the fuzzy lighting. A malicious glare was locked onto Cecelia. "No Blot this time, Cecelia." He purred, licking his lips. "Now you face an evil far greater." And he will be there to witness every second of it.

 **xxx**

Tiny bumps scaling her skin had Cecelia's hairs standing on end. Blot Alley was cold, damp...kinda lonely. Compared to the swamp, Blot Alley was deserted. The silence reverberating to the rooftops, ushered by a breathless moaning of the gentle breeze was unsettling. The sense of isolation was gripping. The thinned out Toon spots made the place creepier than The Haunted Mansion. Hopefully Mickey will pass through and paint the life back into this place. She'd feel as if eyes were on her. The ominous sense of a presence looming at her back. She'd turn in every direction, finding only herself and the Spatters. A worse feeling. And they aren't exactly aware of her. Small miracles. Ian made it clear that he doesn't want the Spatters to be bothered or hurt. Cecelia doesn't doubt for a second that ghost is watching her. Likely explains the eyes on her back. Cecelia used her leaping spell from before and kept to the balconies, ledges, and the tops of party carts. She snuck her way through the alley without creating too much of a fuss. A Spatter, who by some feat was on a balcony, spotted her. Cecelia tapped his forehead, freezing him temporarily in time, then proceeded on. He was freed in a few seconds. Question marks showed around his head seeing Cecelia gone. She'd wait in a corner, let the Spatter walk off a ways, then she'd return to her trek.

Cecelia's path of ledges was gone after a few short leaps. She came to this monumentous wall built in the middle of the alley. Well fortified, solid steel plating, capable of withstanding an army of Blotlings, and the only passage Cecelia has to get after Prescott. She knelt to the balcony edge, leering at the sole archway leading into another area. Cecelia considered leaping over the wall. Not only was it too high, there's barbed wiring woven in. A fountain in the middle of a square was surrounded by Spatters. And those Spatters were hovering at the door. Her bigger issue is the bells she's seen on the way in. The Spatters are a mess, but even she think they'd know how to use a bell to warn their buddies. _I've never missed Mickey or Oswald this much._ Cecelia traced two fingers to her lips. She drew in a deep breath. " _Ventum captionem._ " **(** _ **Wind trap**_ **)** She whispered. She blew. A stream of windy, weaving ribbons flowed from her lips. The Spatters were swooped clean off their feet. They gargled heatedly, thrashing violently for the ground. Cecelia jumped to ground level. She extended her palm like a blade. A thin gleam traced to her pinky and she cut the bell's rope. The Spatters started to bob up and down in the wind traps. The wildly streams faded in and out.

"Gotta move!" She kicked it into high gear. But when she moved into the next section, her time felt a lot shorter with another wall in her way. And that giant keyhole wasn't raising her hopes. A bronze statue of a Spatter had the key she needed. It was stuck within a square barrier, and the only way to open it was to activate the access port. Which she needs Oswald for. "Seriously! Something hates me on this trip!" No matter. She hasn't needed a key in the past. She doesn't need one now. Cecelia ran up to the Mickey shaped keyhole. She pulled a box close and stood on it, getting a good look inside to what she's dealing with. She glanced to the Spatter Key and back at the keyhole. Flat with a easily accessible mechanisms. In short, it's just an annoying doorknob that can be opened with a butter knife.

" _GRRAAGGHH!_ " Mighty, yet very tiny, roars pierced Cecelia's back. Slimy plops to ground brought dread to her head. Her spell faded. She turned and saw her _friends_ racing in to greet her. They didn't look too happy about their bell.

" _Arena onerariis!_ " She jumped and slammed both feet hard. The waves resounded like a quake. The stone cracked under the Spatters and melted into sand. The Spatters gulped and waved dismally, swallowed instantly into a pit of sand. A ways past the thinner fountain, the Spatters were spat out another pool of sand, landing on their rumps with no clue to what happened. "Now then, back to what I was doing." She climbed back onto her box. She hovered her palm at the hole. She hugged her spellbook to her chest and closed her eyes. Transparent tendrils snaked inside the simple lock, smoothing to the minor grooves and crevices, tracing into the intricate gears and springs that held it in place. The lock itself was a full diagram in Cecelia's mind. She flared her eyes open. " _Resigno..._ " She huffed with an enchanting tone. The lock sputtered a bit, then finally acquiesced to the spell. Cecelia leapt out of the way. The solid metal doors pushed her box over like it was nothing. In truth it wasn't. It was an empty crate.

The next area was somewhere Cecelia would love to come to if day ever touched Bog Easy. The dining tables everywhere, and the spinoffs of trendy shops she's seen at the other park. She and Prescott should come here on one of their dates. He'd love the coffee at the cafe. It's just his style of bitter and sweet. Cecelia wants to dive into the pastry shop next door. That cake looked amazing. Her stomach was gurgling just thinking about it. Her and Prescott, sharing cake and coffee, under a sunny sky and with people casually passing by. A dream come true. She slapped the drool off her face and the fantasy out of her head. She's on a mission here. She can't afford to daydream. Cecelia trudged onward, not about to be stopped by anyone or anything.

"Oh crap!" She drooped miserably. She spoke too soon. Taking over the entire next street were Splahdooshes. Just the Blotlings she was hoping weren't part of this exhibit. Jumping roof to roof isn't going to help here. She's got Spatters above her, and too much noise will cause these guys to burst. Ian will definitely hold that against her. "Maybe…" She shuffled through her spellbook, certain there's a spell in here that can deal with this. "HERE!" She jabbed her finger into the sleeping spell. This is perfect for the volatile and lazy Blotlings. She swayed her palm up and down, side to side, graceful flourishes like a symphony conductor. " _Rockabye -uh- Blotlings, away on the...street..._ " Hard to sing and make up lyrics on the fly. On the bright side, her hand was radiating with a sparkling white and blue mist, " _May you sleep soundly, and all your dreams will be sweet._ " She blew the mist, turning it into a spanning cloud. It traveled to the Splahdooshes, sprinkling atop their heads. They snorted and stirred, awoken by a strange icy hot sensation, then drifted off to sleep again. "Hmph. I've got this lack of magic thing down." Cecelia boastfully blew on her fingers, slipping them into her pocket. She got into a run before the spell wore off. She's become accustomed to her spells not having a full affect. She's sure those gators she sank reappeared somewhere. Her full powers would have drowned them. Regardless, her powers worked enough to get her through. The Spatters above tried to jump her. She cast her inflating spell and swelled them like balloons, waving at them as they drifted off.

"Way tuh go, Kiddo! Ya did great with duh little guys!" Ian applauded her as she rounded a corner. He was waiting at large double wood doors, holding his jiggling tummy as he laughed. "I gotta admit, was skeptical at first. What wit ya not havin' yer powers and all. But ya proved me wrong, and you were great with Blotlings." Cecelia wore her pride with a smug grin. She lives to challenge the nonbelievers. "Head on through! I think I saw Prescott talkin' with Petetronic at the club!"

"Thanks!" She waved, taking off. Her run slowed as she was taken aback in awe. Club 13 had a nice space to itself. A neutral guardian pool running through, the shops, and the pottery shop that also sold plants. The booming Club 13 would certainly draw a lot of ears. Seems like it would get a lot of foot traffic under different circumstances. Seriously, once everything is said and done with, Cecelia is coming here for a night on the town. She doesn't think Bog Easy gets brighter than this.

 _SLAM!_ "AH!" She jumped ten feet in the air. "What the heck was that?!" She cried, leaping past the Guardian Pool. Sounded like thunder met a megadrum.

"Geez Louise what a grouch!" Petetronic tromped heatedly from behind Club 13. "Just wanna make light conversation, and I get my rump chewed off!" He held that oversize rump of his. There are small teeth marks there. "Serves me right for tryin' tuh be neighborly tuh dat not-so-neighborly loon!"

"Petetronic! HEY!" Cecelia gleefully called to him, skipping over. Petetronic ogled her strangely, then smiled when he recognized that tuft of white hair running toward him. "Ian said you'd be here!"

"Well well, if it ain't duh Magic Kitty. How ya doin'?" He raised a palm.

Cecelia jumped to give him a high-five. "I'm great! I almost didn't believe Ian when he told me you were running a club now." Petetronic boastful swept a hand up and to the glory that is his happenin' Club. "What about Tomorrow City?"

"Egh, dat place ain't all it's cracked up to be these days." He shooed it off. "Ever since duh quake, the buildin' dare ain't dat stable. Yeah, it still looks pretty," He wrapped his monstrous arm around her, lifting her in close, "But you and I know dat pretty hides deh ugly." He winked with a snicker. Cecelia deadpanned on the unintentional insult. Petetronic is nothing if not like his brothers. Compliments mixed with insults. She let it roll of her back. "Anyway, what brings ya by? I heard you and Mickey was back."

"Mickey's off with Oswald somewhere. I'm looking for Prescott." She cringed at the bite in his butt. "By the looks of it, you just asked him about his business." Prescott doesn't like it when people keep asking about what he's up to.

"And boy did I get chewed out!" That pun was too easy to comment on. "Dat boyfriend of yers is a real piranha."

"Speaking of - where's Prescott going?"

"He's off tuh do some egghead genius stuff in the old Floatyard. Probably fixin' up dat Dee-oh...uh...dye ya grandma thing he built." Cecelia went completely blank. A cloud played an image of some old lady being splashed in different dyes. "You know! A humongous version of an interactive pop up book?" Petetronic exaggeratedly spread his arms.

"A Diorama?" She exclaimed.

"YEP! DAT'S IT!" He touched his nose.

"Prescott built a Diorama?" She gasped again.

"He sure did! It's comin' along great too." He never mentioned this to her. Maybe it was going to be a surprise for everyone. Or just her and Mickey. Sounds like people in Wasteland know about it. "He finished the segment on the Thinner Disaster, and was workin' on the Terror Blot Reign segment." He smashed a large hand to her head. "Dat's where you and de others come in to deliver the kibosh on de Blot and Doc once and fur all." A diorama dedicated to the disasters Wasteland survived. Not sure if it is uplifting that there will be a third diorama of the quake in the making. "He's probably gonna tune up dat scrapheap Abe he's been fussin' over, too! Guy's been goin' at him for weeks. Poor fella. Can't get his gears in order."

"Abe?"

"Abe is short for Automatic Branch Engineer. He's de guy who explains what's what in the dio-thingy-ma-bobber and gives ya the low down on duh history within it."

"He's a tour guide?"

"Give de Kitty a prize!" He slapped a sticker to the middle of her forehead. Cecelia was red in the face with anger. She's 19 now, for crying out loud. She only looks 11. "Anyway, the tunnels will take ya to the Fort in the Guch. From dare it's just a hop, skip, and a jump to duh Floatyard."

The Floatyard. Prescott's home projects away from home. And where Cecelia can finally corner him for answers. Maybe this time she won't miss him by a couple minutes. "How do I get to the Diorama from here?"

"Just you? By yerself?" He arched a skeptical brow.

"Yeah. That a problem?" Cecelia crossley put hands on her hips.

"Just dat I hears ya ain't got much oomph in yer poof dese days." A vein clenched in Cecelia's head. She knows to expect everyone to be aware of it. But seriously! Can invest a little more faith in her than this? Come on! She's made it this far on her own. "And seein' as I like ya and all, I don't tink goin' by yerself is hunky-dorey."

"Oh yeah! And who told you dat -er- that?" She challenged!

"Prescott." Cecelia's whole face was smacked full palmed with shock. Prescott told him? Petetronic shuddered at her expression. "I'm guessin' he shouldn't have opened his mouth." Cecelia bared her teeth, growling with glazed dagger eyes. "Ooh! Girlfriend Glare!" Cecelia balled a fist. A stone coating shaped to it. "Umm...you know what?! Who am I tuh judge? Yer tough skinned!" He nervously nudged her, laughing weakly. "De way tuh de diorama is through de tunnels here." He guided her to the large metal doors. "From dare you'll wanna find Ian at De Fort. He'll help ya find the entrance tuh the Floatyard since ya left dem Blots alone. Do de same for dem Blots in de Fort, and he'll be all kinds of grateful!"

"Thanks, Petetronic. You were always my favorite!" Cecelia kissed up with long, batting eyelashes.

"Yeah, yeah, don't push it." He flicked her in the forehead. "I just need tuh fire up de generator and the doors will open for ya." He tromped inside the club.

"Okay…" Guess all she has to do is wait around then. That'd be a nice change of pace.

"CECELIA…!" Ian came crashing to Club 13 like a falling star. He skipped and bounced and slid right to her feet. Those stars around his head made her dizzy. Ian shook off his less than graceful landing, then grabbed Cecelia by the shoulders. "Cecelia! We got trouble! I forgot tuh lock the doors to the Club! A hoard of Blotlings is headin' right for ya!"

"WHAT?!" She and Petetronic, who stuck himself halfway out a window, screamed. Cecelia raced to the street she entered from. She gaped in utter terror. A vanguard of seriously angry Spatters was snarling straight for her. Behind them were Sweepers and Dropwings. She doesn't remember passing by them on her way in. They must have been hiding in the background. Bringing up the rear were four Splahdooshes being rolled in on little wagons. Cecelia broke into a cold sweat. The gators were hard enough. And they don't spit, through, or explode thinner. Or are protected by a very unhealthily sentimental ghost. "Ian! How could you forget to lock the door?!" Cecelia screeched.

"I thought I did! But when I came back to check, the darn thing was open and de little guys were marchin' in!" Ian was sincere about closing that door. It's possible he forgot. Then again, whoever pelted Cecelia with gator bait might be behind all this.

"Petetronic, tell me the Generator is up and running!" Cecelia pleaded, staggering back.

"Not yet, Kiddo!"

"Dammit!" She flared her palms. A blaze in one and swirling ice in the other.

"Kid! I know this is bad!" Ian grabbed at her arms. "But I'm beggin' ya! Don't hurt the little guys!"

"Them?! They're going to eat me alive!" She fumed in his face. Ian put on his best puppy dog face, whimpering with a quivering lip and big eyes. Cecelia was crumbling faster than the Blotlings were approaching. "I make no promises!" She swore.

"Tanks, Kid! I'll even give ya a hand!" He popped his hand off and handed it to her. She slapped him with it. "Youch! Sorry! But really! I'll be right back!" Ian took off into the night.

Cecelia growled through gritted teeth. The Blotlings were about to cross the threshold to Club 13. "Kid! No pressure, but dey'll tear my club in tuh pieces too!"

"Grr! The things I'm going through to talk to that gremlin of mine!" Cecelia slammed both hands to the ground. Her curling fingers turned the stone to muck. "Sorry, kids! No entry without an IN-VITE!" She threw mud balls at the passage. An intertwining mud fence climbed high, solidifying into hard stone. The Spatters and Sweepers threw themselves in a feeble attempt to knock it down. The Dropwings charged at high speeds, rebound with a nice gong to the brain. Those bars are thicker than they gave them credit for. Still, they weren't deterred. Cecelia used this time to draw on some blank sheets of paper she had in the back of her book. She a number of characters on each one, creating a thick stack at her feet. She just hopes they work until Ian gets back.

The Dropwings brought a Spladoosh forward. "Oh man! Petetronic! Close the window!" Cecelia ducked for cover. Petetronic closed his windows. The Spladoosh roared at the bars pressing into his inky skin. The Dropwings pushed and shoved, agitating him. The Spladoosh had enough. His body started to grow, stomach to limbs inflating to the brink. A vibrating boom rocked CLub 13. A flash wave of thinner ate instantly to through the mud bars, and the Blotlings stampeded unto Club 13.

"HERE DEY COME!" Petetronic panicked.

"I see them! _PROTEGO MAXIMA!_ " Cecelia shouted at the top of her legs. An elastic barrier collided with the Spatters. They were smushed flat between it and their stampeding horde. The tremendous weight bore down vicious pressure to Cecelia tiny arms. The bending bones feeling ready to snap. The strain to her head was unbearable. Cecelia lowered one hand, taking a slip of paper between her fingers. "Sure hoping Guardian Pools are liquid!" She flicked the paper backwards, shooting it into the neutral pool. Cecelia dropped the shield, the blotlings came tumbling forward, and she sprang to the other side of the pool. The Spatter, fed up with her toyign with them, came charging at top speed, running headlong into the pool. Cecelia erected two fingers in her face. A focused, glowing glare activated the charm in the pool. The Spatters froze in mid run at a blind light rising from the pool. The pool lit up in an electrified tunnel. The Spatters spasmed and wailed, their eyes flickering like overfed light bulbs. The electricity died down, leaving them laughing dazedly, and collapsing with smoke wafting from their bodies. Cecelia thrust her palms. White trap nets spread to each Spatter. "That'll hold you till Ian comes back!" She boasted.

The Dropwings and Sweepers were smarter than that. The Sweepers stayed on the other side of the pool, noticing electrical streams swimming in the pool. They launched bucket after buckets of thinner. Cecelia dodged between the globs, laughing mocking at how far from the mark they were. She skid to a halt, pulling her book from her hip for another paper. Inky hands grabbed each other her wrists, yanking her right off the ground. "HEY! PUT ME DOWN!" She yelled at the Dropwings, kicking violently. The one Dropwing tried prying her book from her hand, but she held on tight. Two Dropwings came up behind, laughing menacingly with wiggling fingers. Their gooey prongs attacked Cecelia's side. "HA-HA-HA! STOP IT! THAT TICKLES!" In her fit she dropped her book, and a Dropwing sntahced it up, throwing it far from her reach. "HEY! THAT'S IT!" Lightning surged between her ears. A ball of light amassed. Before the Dropwings could react, Cecelia closed her eyes and unleashed a blinding, paralyzing flash bomb. The dropwings wailed, letting her go. Cecelia landed in a crouch. She threw her hands up. " _Bullesco!_ " Volleys of bubbles clung to the Dropwings. Their wings, snare arms, and large mouths ensnared in a thick, heavy padding. They dropped swiftly, bouncing along, struggling futilely to escape. Cecelia spat a raspberry at them. "You'll have to do better than that!"

Challenge accepted. The Sweepers had surrounded Cecelia while she dealt with the Dropwings. She cursed herself. She's beginning to sense a pattern of coordination here. The Blotlings are getting smarter without their leader around to think for them. Except for the spatters. They're still dumber than posts. And she doesn't have her spellbook or the sutras. They were tossed to the edge of the pool. Good thing Cecelia knows better than to rely on tools alone. The Sweepers drew their buckets back, holding them in place, waiting for Cecelia to twitch. "Come on, you third rate pests! I'm not getting any younger!" She dared with glowing red eyes. The Sweeper growled and tossed their thinner. " _Artis loco!_ " She clapped. There was a flash. The Sweepers winced then opened their eyes, and were doused head to toe by their own thinner. Their squeals of agony alerted to her slip. Their blistering, inky flesh melting. " _Mutatio lapis!_ " She quickly chanted. The thinner changed from a painful alcohol to a stone body skin, rooting the Sweepers in their cowering states. "That's them down. And now for you guys!" She declared to the Splahdooshes blocking the exit. They can't move on their own. And she isn't sure putting them to sleep is the best option. She needs to get them away from the club. But how?

"I'm back!" Ian announced from above. Dozens of crates came falling down, stacking to one another. Ian dusted his palms, panting between heavy laughs. "Sorry it took so long! You would not believe the traffic-HUH!" His jaw detached and hit the stone like a mallet. His eyes fell out of their sockets and rolled to the ground. Petetronic was cleaning his eyes with windex, still unable to believe, even in this aftermath, that Cecelia just owned a bunch of Blotlings by herself...and they aren't piles of ink. "What in Roy Disney?! Are you serious?!" He gasped. He tapped a bubbled Dropwing with his foot. "You seriously did this?!" Cecelia rolled her eyes. She retrieved her book, dusting off the cover. Still in good shape. Ian whistled breathless, running his hat to his sweating brow. "Man. Remind me not to get on your bad side." Cecelia will add him to the list.

"The kid's good! I'll give her that." Petetronic stated, forgetting that he was holding himself up by the window sill. The doors to the train tunnel parted open. Another projector awaited Cecelia. "And she handled yer pets nicely before either of us could finish!" He chortled. "So much for me thinkin' you can't handle yerself." Petetronic apologized within the compliment.

"Don't feel bad. I doubted her too." Ian draped an arm to him in sympathized regret. "No wonder Prescott digs her." He winked. Cecelia blushed deeply. "You better get goin' before ya lose him."

"Thanks a lot guys. See you soon!" Cecelia lunged into the projector.

"Be careful, Kitten-Cat!" Petetronic called to her. He shuddered. "Ooh man. Why do I get de feelin' dere's gonna be a nasty breakup?"

"Ya think so?" Ian doubted.

"I don't know. Just a bad feelin' is all."

That bad feeling may actually be a legitimate concern Petetronic was feeling. Or perhaps he is being corrupted by the hateful presence of The Mad Doctor looming from the rooftops. The rancor he seethed as that feline pest continued her journey for her lover. The closer she got, the more unhinged his plans, in the midst of their full fruition, became. "It would seem lies have become your second language, Prescott." As much as he does not wish to, he needs to inform his partner of this unforeseen events.

 **xxx**

"What?! Yer kiddin' me?!" Big Bad Pete slammed a fist to his City Hall desk. The monitor on his desk clattered. The Mad Doctor on the other side was impassive to his rage. "Dat kid is on her own, and she's beatin' yer traps without dat magic of her's?!" Thank goodness for screen. The Mad Doctor would hate to be coated in that saliva of his. He moved from his desk. He locked the doors, closed the windows, and took the monitor to the cellblocks. "You sure we're talkin' about de same kid?!"

 **xxx**

"As shocking as it sounds, the child is proving more capable than I gave her credit for." The Mad Doctor demolished his denial into thousands of pieces. His own denial went with it. He twisted his wrist computer away so he can growl in peace. He brought the communicator back. "And here Prescott said she'd be useless without it." He doesn't want to accept that she's becoming a major hinderance. But who is he kidding? He should have killed her while she fought the Blotworx Dragon.

 **xxx**

"Does dat purple lump even know she's coming?" Big Bad huffed.

 **xxx**

"No, he doesn't." Prescott seems to be completely oblivious. A wicked, gleeful smile stretched his face in half. "And why not keep it that way." He purred.

" _Huh? Why?_ " Big Bad nearly fell out of his overalls.

"I wish to test his resolve in this matter." He and Prescott are partners to the bitter end. The Mad Doctor will not allow this minor bump in the road to derail his plans. In fact, if he plays his cards right, his plans will be augmented to his advantage. An all new result for when his long sought dream is brought to life. "Should he prove too weak," The Mad Doctor reached around behind his back. A black and red box nested in his palm, "I have a contingency to remind him of where his loyalties should be."

 **xxx**

Cecelia launches herself from another wild projector ride, landing to a solid metal floor. Cold air, unlike the humid swamp air, washed to her skin. She shivered, rubbing her hands to her upper arms. She was getting goosebumps. "ACHOO!" She sniffled. She's really going to need some soup after this. She trailed her head up. "Holy Baby Mermaids the man has been busy!" Cecelia censored her normally colorful language. Why? Because she is truly flabbergasted beyond comprehensible swears. Rainbow Caverns, Disney Gulch, The Mad Doctor's lab - none of these places compared to the tunnel Cecelia landed in. Granted, it is one room with a train rail running along a gaping hole, large power cords swinging to and fro. The frayed ends were surging with rampant power. But already can Cecelia tell that she was about to bear witness to what Prescott's frightening genius is capable of. "I swear, Prescott, you better be here or your name is mud when you get home!"

She jumped to the wooden plank conjoined to the tracks, then jumped to the platform on the other side. She came to another set of doors. Yet another patterns she's starting to become irritatingly accustomed to. Doors, Blotlings, obstacles and barriers that seem keen on throwing themselves in her path. A higher power in the works desperate to keep Cecelia from meeting up with Prescott. Why? Does the universe know what is going on behind the scenes? Does it know what awaits when the end of this journey finally arrives? If so, that leaves a final question. Does Cecelia really want to take another step? No. No she doesn't. Prescott vanishing, the projectors breaking, The Mad Doctor's return. All of these questions buzzing around like a swarm of bees. She wants to go back in the other direction. Return to OsTown and wait for Prescott to come home. She'll play pretend. Act as if she wasn't stalking him, pretend like she wasn't losing faith in him, and just be his girlfriend and he her boyfriend. It can all go back to the way it was. That's what she wanted more than anything. And yet she is walking forward. She's bringing herself in view of the door's sensor, and is staring into the face of the first diorama. The depiction of Mickey's first victory when he entered Wasteland - The Clock Tower.

Cecelia was moderately disappointed that the diorama was working. The way Petetronic spoke about it, she was expecting an interactive experience to what Mickey braved on his first journey. He's told her stories. Spared no detail. She was sorry she didn't come across Mickey the first time. She could have born witness to one of the bravest warriors from her side of the mirror. Cecelia was off with Merlin at the time learning alternative ways to living in her new child from. Instead of relying on magic to chase her pain away, he helped her come to accept what and who she is, what she'd done, and figure out a way to wake up every morning and not loathe herself. Yes, he taught her magic for recreational use. But, like with Arthur, bombarded her with lessons on life and its challenges. And while she was learning this lesson, Mickey was enduring the torment of a mistake he made a long time ago. The thinner bottle he spilled that Yensid had to replace, and Oswald absolutely hating his guts. He persevered, though. Against all odds, that mouse survived to fight another war. Cecelia feels truly blessed to have met him. No matter how bad things got, Mickey always moved forward and wore a smile. His big heart never wavering, and his faith in others holding strong. And when his heart was stolen straight from his chest, he went right into The Blot and got it back. As for Oswald...he took what had to have been the most horrific truth he could learn about someone and cast it aside, and earned himself one of the best friends he could ever ask for. Cecelia is seriously jealous she couldn't be there. She's lucky and honored to be apart of this journey and the last one.

The Clock Tower Diorama was a true marvel. Though it was in dire need of repairs. Cecelia would love nothing more than to admire this wonder. She doesn't care abou the arms stuck in a stunted motion that sent them plopping to the ground. Or that most of the tiny figurines are thinned out. And there's another translucent guardian pool. None of the malfunctions mattered to her. She just wanted to revel in Prescott's artistry. Unfortunately, the longer she idles, the farther away he gets. Although...Cecelia isn't exactly sure how to go further. She should have asked Petetronic about that. "Okay...think." She told herself, pacing back and forth. "You're Prescott. You're working hard, have differenti dioramas to work on, but don't want to waste time going from one to the other. What...would I...build...to lessen the time?" A projector? No. Then anyone would be able to stumble in here. Underground tunnels? Not in a place that is highly conductive. Tubes? She remembers Jamface used transport tubes when in Tomorrow City. "There!" On the left wall were the very tubes she was looking for. She went inside one, pushing a button. Metal doors closed vertically and a powerful suction of air launched her into the tubes. Cecelia had to hold her breath and close her eyes. The rush was tying her stomach up. The stop might actually make her vomit. Or it would if she noticed it. Her stop to the next floor was so gentle she was sure she passed out.

"Smooth, intense, gentle, and firm. Way to go, Press." She hummed with a tender smile. The attributes of him that he applies to his work. Cecelia doesn't know why, but that makes her fall in love with him all the more. And it makes what she's doing hurt her worse than what The Blot did.

" _Kind of-of-of-of odd for ya to come all-all-all the w-w-way out here for some tools..._ " Cecelia's head darted about. The broken voice knocked her for a loop like the tubes. Was that even a person she heard? " _Th-th-the Gag F...factory not buy….ing...you...new toys?_ " There's a lot of static intermingled in the words. And the harder the person tried to speak, the worse their stammering got.

" _Trust me, Abe,_ " Ice flooded Cecelia's blood, " _What I need isn't at that idiotic factory._ "

"Prescott!" She squeaked quietly. She tiptoed out of the tubes, staying low and close to the wall. She ran her hand along the rotting wood, dust and cobwebs sticking to her fingers. Shadows were cast to the adjacent wall. One a very tall man with no legs, the other a gremlin. Her gremlin. Cecelia sat with her back pressed to the wall. Slowly, shaking like a leaf, she turned. Her crimson orbs glossed, widening at the furiously glaring purple Gremlin speaking to a mechanical man. She shrunk back into hiding, curling into a tighter ball. _Why are you hiding?_ She scolded herself. _If it's Prescott you have nothing to worry about._ And yet here she is, heart pounding, about to molt out of her skin knowing she'd see him. She doesn't believe he's behind these travesties. She can't. _So why am I too scared to go to him?_

"Now, I am here for those parts I asked you to assemble." Cecelia covered her mouth, stifling a cry at Prescott's voice. "I trust you have them stored where I told you to put them." Parts? Tools? What's he after here?

"O-O-Of course I...do! At the f...f...ort projector!" The fort. That Abe thing must mean Fort Wasteland in the Gulch. Why did Prescott have him gather tools? And what does he need them for in Fort Wasteland? Or are they for what he has in the Floatyard? "I gotta know...know...a-a-a-a-a...why-why-why do you need all this stuff, Prescott." Cecelia wondered if Abe was reading her mind.

"Trust me, Abe, it's for the greater good of Wasteland." Prescott hissed seethingly. "I'm going to a place where I'll be appreciated!" He cast a hand to the air, painting that fantasy for Abe to see, "Soon they'll all remember the name PRESCOTT!" He said his name with such passion and contempt. He put himself on a pedestal, all the while taking a gavel to himself. Prescott ended his conversation with Abe, taking off into the Diorama.

Cecelia had to put a hand over her mouth to stop the loud, horrified gasp. That doesn't sound like her Prescott. This guy...she doesn't know who this is. He's vengeful, enraged. Prescott was never like that. At least not when she last saw him. "Prescott…" She clutched at her aching heart. "What's happening to you?!"

 **To be continued**


	17. The Plot Thickens

**The Plot Thickens**

 **This isn't going to be much of an action chapter, just one giant dramatic recap and review. Not too exciting, and not promising a lot.**

 **xxx**

This was too much. It's all way too much to bearing down on their necks. Their shoulders are developing knots trying to hold it all up. Rifling through it was a greater strain. And it was causing Oswald to have mental breakdowns. He'd scream so loud he'd cause another quake, and wake up babies in Ventureland. Mickey was keeping it together relatively well. That's not to say the stress isn't gnawing away at him as harshly. He's just handling it better. He has Minnie to thank for keeping his head on straight. Ortensia tries to help Oswald. Hard to do that when he's going through the trouble of keeping her out of the loop. He wants nothing more than to share this journey with her. She's as much involved as anyone else. She should be able to walk side by side with him. But he wouldn't let her. He'll tell her everything was fine. That she doesn't have to worry because he was handling things. Before she knows it, everything will be as it was. He's never lied to her before. He wanted to wring his tongue out. He tasted lies with every word. In his heart he knew things would be normal. Right now, in this very moment, it's all far from normal. Far from going BACK to being normal. The danger is as horrendous as the Thinner Disaster and The Terror Blot Reign. Oswald can't put Ortensia in the middle of that again. He won't. He can't risk losing her again. Especially when he doesn't have the slightest clue how he's going to save Wasteland this time. He doesn't even know what to do now with what he's learned.

In spite of it being a another bad shake from being a lost ruin, Oswald and Mickey returned to Dark Beauty Castle for much needed brainstorming. The courtyard was in considerably good shape. The collapsed rubble around gave the ambiance of a post-apocalyptic sanctuary. The fountain of crystal clear flowing water gave serenity amid the disaster. The light trickling massaged into their sore ears, drifting into their tense shoulders. Mickey sat on the ridge of the fountain, leaned to an elbow with one leg bent and the other swinging. Oswald was on the ground with elbows on his folded knees. He kept his head propped on his knuckles, brow furrowed in deep seeded frustration. "A special TV, Prescott and the Doc meeting, the Petes having meetings, and now there's a ride and something going on at the construction site." Oswald said it over and over again, only to crash headlong into a wall. Unstoppable Bunny Force meeting the Immoveable Mystery Object. Instead of both cancelling each other out, Oswald is just thrown back to square one and sent on this pointless run again.

"What could this all mean?" Mickey ground dust pensively between his fingers.

"I dunno, Mickey." Oswald moaned helplessly. "I mean it sounds like everyone's up to no good." A very biased point of view considering they are searching or a traitor. "But the last time I jumped the gun on someone, turned out they were planning a surprise party for Clarabelle. She still hasn't forgiven me for that one." Mickey is thankful he wasn't there for that. If this Clarabelle is anything like his, she can make thousand year dormant volcanoes erupt from space. "This can be nothing, this can be something. Building a TV isn't wrong! A TV is what got you and Cecelia here in the first place!" Mickey bobbed his head. He can't argue with that. "The Petes meeting and having secrets projects - unsettling but not wrong. The Mad Doc and Prescott hanging out - not wrong!" None of it is wrong. He's just out of the loop. Still...still...in the darkest roots of his bunny chest, he knows there is much that is amiss. "But...gah…" He mangled at his thoughts, "The Visitors Prescott and The Doc are talking about…" A conversation partially caught by Moody. Oswald twisted partially to the paling mouse, "Only you and Cecelia come to mind." Wasteland is a welcome home for them, but they are visitors from the Cartoon World.

Oswald didn't need to feel conflicted or guilty. "I was thinkin' the same thing." Mickey replied. He had to swallow hard before proceeding. Adele and Jack, The Train Conductor, Rigger and Moody - random friends they chose to lend a hand to contained possibly the most damaging and revealing information that will leave Wasteland crippling at the knees. Separately they mean nothing. Together they've made a canvas. Mickey and Oswald just have to fill in the blanks. "Prescott and The Mad Doctor are concerned about visitors. That's me and Cecelia." Flat and simple. There's no going around that. "The Doc said...he doesn't want ME ruining his wild ride." That might pertain to the ride he's built, or something else entirely. And...Prescott said she'd never come without it. What if...he meant…" It can only mean her magic. No, it doesn't make a lick of sense. Unless you consider one key piece of evidence, "He had her book…he could have done it." Moody even corroborated that he saw the same hand that robbed Cecelia.

"Could have, might have, may have." The number of foolish uncertainties they are throwing for the sole purpose of sparing their feelings and Cecelia's. Prescott...he...no...he stole her magic. Ripped a hole into her world. "Then what's the TV for?! If the Doc and Prescott are up to no good, why have a TV for a show to broadcast to Wasteland?!" Seems like a waste to steal Cecelia's magic, and go through all this secrecy. If The Doc wanted a show, he could have told Oswald. He'd let him go through with it. There's no harm in it. "Why does he want to ruin the cartoon world? We love the cartoon world!" He stressed. "And the Petes! Why are they worried about rides and the construction site?!" He flailed his hands, twisting and knotting his ears. "None of this is making sense. Are we missing something?"

"I'd say more than something." Mickey lied flat on his back. He's about to pass up. "Maybe we're misinterpreting with our way of thinking." He threw out there. Oswald arched a dubious brow at the mouse. "I'm going to take a page from you and think positive." He stressed before the bunny could shoot him down. Oswald lied the opposite way on the ground. He lazily waved a hand, permitting Mickey to proceed. "The Mad Doctor's show: what if it ties into the ride the Petes were talking about? Maybe that's what's at the construction site. It's all going to be an attraction." Oswald pursed his lips upward, considering the possibility. "Prescott and The Doc could have been meeting about that, wanting to put their heads together. They are Wasteland's spoiled sports after all. This is their way of giving back."

"Prescott does have projects everywhere. The Doc probably does too." Oswald entertained. It isn't a bad plot. "They likely joined forces somewhere to see them done faster. And they aren't too popular with too many people." No one would want to willingly partner with them.

"Exactly! And Cecelia and I coming might have ruined their partnership!" And it isn't hard to ponder how. "Cecelia hates the Doc so...so...Prescott might have planned to hold her spellbook hostage to keep her from intervening." He isn't sure if that would work, or why that would lead him to steal her magic. But it's all he has before he has to explain the why to the ending cause. "Me? I'm more understanding and wouldn't pose a threat. To an extent. But The Doc wouldn't want that risk. I'd ruin his _wild ride._ "

"I guess...that all makes sense." Oswald wasn't sure if it did. He just doesn't have a rebuttal. "But, Mickey, all these secrets, all these projects, and this person who wrecked the projectors…" He still can't bring himself to place blame on Prescott, "I can't shake the feeling a whole new world is taking shape and I'm not part of it." That's as worse a feeling as losing Ortensia to The Blot. "I'm so busy going off on adventures and saving Wasteland." He folded his hands to his chest. "Maybe that's why I'm the last to learn things."

"Oswald," Mickey propped on his elbows, "I'm sure everyone thought you were busy and wanted to shoulder some of the burden." He reassured the staggering bunny. "No one here doubts you as a leader. I sure don't. Let them help in their own way." Oswald scrunched his nose. Mickey threw one positive curveball, "And you should be glad the Petes are having meetings instead of causing trouble."

"That just makes it all the more suspicious." Oswald chuckled. "Though, why would Petetronic storm out?"

"He's always been the good Pete. He probably doesn't trust the other ones." Mickey tossed out there. On the tip of his tongue was a supremely bitter taste. All of these theories, they bring Mickey back to the same place. "That trust, somehow, transferred to Prescott and has made him able to trust The Mad Doctor, and vice versa. The same man responsible for Cecelia nearly passing away." Mickey hugged a knee in close, resting his chin to the top. "And somehow convinced him to rob her of her magic. For a reason...we're still debating on." Oswald twisted in agony. He hovered hands at his ears, wanting to block it all out. "Oswald, we have to dig into it."

"I know, Mick! I know!" He blurted. "I just can't wrap my head around it! The Doc said he'd changed! Nothing he's done would make me doubt him!" Wasteland is being repaired. Blotlings are attacking him like everyone else. He's lost as much as anyone else has. "And I know I've been accusing him - BUT COME ON!" He sprang to his feet, pleading to Mickey. "Prescott is Cecelia's boyfriend! He loves her! He's the reason she's alive, and she's the reason he lowered his barrier!" These two complete each other more than any fairytale ending that made it off the writing board. "I don't...want to think...he's turned on her."

"Maybe he hasn't. Maybe It's only The Mad Doctor." The mouse proposed. "Moody said The Doc's been hanging around Prescott. He probably learned about her spellbook."

"And he's seen what magic can do when provided with knowledge." Oswald threw in. Prescott turned traitor, Prescott didn't turn traitor. The Mad Doctor is a liar, The Mad Doctor isn't a liar. The only way to get these answers is to go straight to the source. "Alright! Both of them have explaining to do! Cecelia is already chasing Prescott! Let's find the Doc and get answers!"

"Right!" They're pumped, they're determined, and they're ready to face whatever comes their way. Nothing will stop them now.

"Ah, here you boys are!" And they are stopped in a mid run, gawking baffled to the voice from above. Gus came soaring in at mach speeds. A ring of dust wafted under him on his sudden stop. "I've been looking everywhere for you two!" He dropped the satchel of blueprints.

"Gus! How'd you know we were here?" Mickey asked shocked.

"The train conductor figured I was looking for you two." He answered simply. Explains a lot. Mickey and Oswald road the train back to the castle. That projector in particular has been in repairs for a while.

"Where've you been?" Oswald stressed. It's like Gus dropped off the face of Wasteland.

"Out investigating! And it's a good thing I did! You both will never believe what I've discovered!" Gus drew in a breath, tightening himself up for the suspense he is about to demolish.

"If it's that Prescott and The Doc are up to no good, I think we beat you to it." Oswald monotonously responded, slapping a hand at his thigh.

Gus gaped is total disbelief. One of his horns popped off. Air was released in a sputter, deflating him like a popped balloon. So much for his grand entrance and dramatic revelation. He sometimes hates how smart these two can be. They're geniuses when together. He blew hard on his thumb, returning his figure. Steam whistled from his ears. "How?" He roared.

Mickey rubbed his neck bashfully, sorry that he and Oswald ruined his moment. "We've been helping people around and they've given us information." Information, Mickey has a feeling, matches what is on those blueprints Gus came charging in there with. "And what we got…" Mickey had to take a breath. That pressure from before mounted with a greater force than ever. "Gus, we really didn't have the faintest clue what was going on." Gus's muscles tensed, ice snaking his spine. The sun was shining upon the courtyard with not a cloud in the sky. But this dark shadow, a malefic mist, crept upon it, smothering the trio with its foreboding toxin.

Oswald and Mickey spared not a single gory detail in what they've learned from Adele and Jack, The conductor, and Rigger and Moody. Gus's petrified expression was nothing short of what they expected. The calm that came next was shrouded by melancholy and horror. As Mickey surmised, the blueprints Gus had in his satchel bred solid proof to the tales he and Oswald heard. They shared what the other did not have. Weaving together the tatters of tapestry that would undoubtedly display the secrets beneath the quake's destruction. Starting with the elusive television. Gus found evidence of a large TV in the Gag Factory Basement Prescott snuck out of the back. That same TV would have enough power to broadcast a TV show The Mad Doctor has in mind, and would bring the Cartoon World to ruin. A figurative sense? Maybe. Hopefully. Gus confirmed that the power the TV is meant to have could very well breach the barrier to the Cartoon World. What he's hoping to accomplish is anyone's guess.

Next on the docket was the Meeting of the Petes, minus Petetronic. Big Bad has been assembling his boorish brothers in secret for a what has been a couple weeks now. Big Bad had the plans to a new ride The Mad Doctor apparently has in the making. Not much after that is too widely known. Pete Pan has been put in charge of guarding some project going on in the Construction Site. Gus wasn't aware of any of that. But if those two wanted strange projects, he's got a doozy of a secret project. Prescott has his own plans for an enormous fortress, capable of withstanding a horde of Blotlings. One set of prints he couldn't really make heads or tails of at first. A mouse shaped device with a large mouth. When Gus got a better look, and filled the prints in himself, he discovered the prints were for a cannon. What he needed a cannon or fortress for was beyond him? Who knows with Prescott why he does anything. He could have built this a long time ago. But, by the looks of it, he was continuing its construction. Oswald was keeping a detailed journal about all of this building going on behind his back. No one tells him anything anymore these days. He's really starting to feel...left out.

Oswald's lack of involvement prompted Gus to dawn a frightening secret upon him. He just hopes The Lucky Rabbit doesn't lose anymore of his pluck in the wake of it. A tunnel was constructed on the Devil Side of Rainbow Caverns that leads straight into Mickeyjunk Mountain. This will mark the second time Gus's dramatic thunder was stolen straight out from under him. Moody told them all about the tunnel, and the exit behind the train station in OsTown. Prescott and The Mad Doctor have been having secret meetings there. From what Moody said, and what they are able to piece together, those two expected Mickey and Cecelia to come the moment danger struck Wasteland. Therefore, they devised a plan to ensure only one would come. That plan involved Cecelia not having the power to be of any use. It was impossible, however. Neither of them knew magic. Yet, Moody swear on his mother and the stars that he saw a heap of magic come from The Gag Factory. No one other than Prescott lives there. Gus was able regain part of his flare. There's one thing he knows they didn't know. And he's never been more sorry for it. Especially when he's been slapped with a horrifying fact. It is possible for The Mad Doctor and Prescott to use magic. As they all are aware, Prescott owned Cecelia's spellbook for the better part of a year. And in that year...Prescott has been training with the book. It could have been the Doctor. If it weren't for the fact that magic was flaring from The Gag Factory. Gus discovered a training ground in Mickeyjunk Mountain that reminded him of Cecelia's test trials. Until the quake, Cecelia hasn't been to Wasteland in the past five months. And Prescott swore from the bottom of his missing heart...that he never let the spellbook out of his sight. Which only makes things worse.

The news didn't stop there. Though Gus strongly wished it would. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take. He has never disliked having all the facts more than he does now. He showed Oswald and Mickey the plans for the pumping station. To the untrained eye, the jots and drawing are simple notes to make work efficient and expedient. Mickey and Oswald felt their heads spinning trying to decipher the chicken scratch all over the plans. Their eyes spun in dizzy swirls, heads bobbing side to side. Gus put a hand to either boy's head, stopping their wobbling. He slowly traced a finger to guide them to where his troubles lied. The main pump lines that send power to the projectors. The surrounding lines were refurbished and fixed up good as new. All except for one. And that one is the culprit behind why most of the projectors were taken offline before the quake. It also happened to be the pipe chewed up by the chattering teeth gag. And all of this was under the supervision of Prescott.

One by one, piece by piece did the holes fill. Time was lost to the trio as they debated and battled long and hard to interpret and transcribe their findings into a answer that coddled their delicate spirits. Painting Prescott as a victim in all of this. Just a pawn in what was a series of coincidences. Naturally, The Mad Doctor had to be defended as well. No one said he had to be watched 24/7, and he isn't always up to something. Their tireless efforts were thwarted every single time. Tried as they might, the picture being painted was clear, and daunting. There was no getting around it. The Mad Doctor is plotting behind the scenes. Building attractions without anyone's knowledge. Starting a television show. Not evil...just sneaky. Prescott he….he broke the Projectors. And worse...he stole Cecelia's magic.

Mickey collapsed onto his back in a pile of dust, gawking dazedly at the afternoon turned to night sky. "This...is...woof." He panted. "I can't...my brain just broke into a jigsaw puzzle." He clawed at his scalp.

"And those pieces broke into dozens more." Gus moaned, half draped into the fountain. He flicked at the water in defeat.

"Prescott and The Doc have been working together this whole time." Oswald snarled, crouched beside the fountain. He was seething with rage. "The Doc is working behind the scenes. Having a TV built for some dumb show he's starting, and building a new attraction without my permission. He's totally going around behind my back." He snapped his ears into his face, his teeth going jagged. "And now we know Prescott broke the projectors! We know he's been helping the Doc with his plans! And the Petes are in on it too! But do you know what the worst part is?!" He howled.

"What's that?" Gus and Mickey groaned, brows arched perplexedly.

Oswald rose to his feet, his little chest filling with air. "Prescott ripped Cecelia's magic right out of her!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. No use being subtle about it. Gus and Mickey were frozen with horror. Though it's obvious with their cringing that they wanted to live in denial. Oswald won't have it. "He practiced day and night with her spellbook, and used it against her!" There's just one more thing that's bothering him. Well, a ton, actually. But this was more important. "How did he even accomplish this on his own?! And without blowing anything up?!"

"Cecelia visited often a while ago." Gus explained. "Prescott would teach her about technology. She might have taught him magic in return."

"And that's how he repays her?! He uses it on her?!" Oswald's voice broke.

"Now hold on, Oswald! We don't know why he did it!" Gus protested. Oswald glared unable to believe he was still defending him. "We all know Prescott is hopelessly in love with Cecelia. What was said, _she'd never come without it,_ might not even mean her magic. And if it does," Oswald turned his back on him. Gus flew around, holding him still, "Why would Prescott want her to stay home?" Oswald pouted angrily, not in the mood to play guessing games. "Because he wouldn't want to lose her like he almost did last year. Which only means he knew trouble was coming."

A lightbulb shined over Mickey's head. "The Mad Doctor is the only danger he would see." He concurred. "Even if he has changed, we saw how Cecelia reacted to him. She would have fried him."

"So…" Oswald swirled a hand, stirring his thoughts, "Prescott took Cecelia's magic...hoping she would stay away. He didn't want her mixed up in this." That does make sense to a degree. But everyone seems to be forgetting Cecelia's flaw of being too caring. "But there's no way he didn't expect her to come regardless. Cecelia would have come even if she had to use a knife and fork."

"Then why was he surprised?" Mickey quizzed.

"Probably by how fast you two got here." Gus answered. "We'd only barely started getting back on our feet after the quake when Ortensia and I began building that TV to bring you here." He shuffled his shoulders. He's still aching. "For you to show up out of nowhere was a shock to a lot of people."

"Speaking of nowhere - this conversation is getting us nowhere!" Oswald impatiently derailed their baseless theories. "We need to get answers straight from the source! From Prescott! And he's going to answer us!"

"Not if he doesn't answer Cecelia first." Mickey groaned with a half smirk. He can see that very violent discussion playing in his head.

"Oh yeah! The train conductor told us he saw her passing through Bog Easy. Where's she going anyway?" Oswald asked Gus.

"Blot Alley. Prescott has projects there." Mickey and Oswald cringed at the mentioning of another project. Gus tapped on his communicator pin. "I haven't heard back from her in quite some time. I wonder if she's found him."

Static broke through his pin. Funny how things work out when they rhetorically ask for them. _"GUS! GUS!"_ Cecelia's voice screamed through the static.

"Speak of the devil!" Gus cheered. "Cecelia! Thank goodness. Where are you?!" Static hissed in response, growing louder the more he tried to adjust the signal. "Cecelia?! Hello?! Are you there?!" Oswald and Mickey leaned in close, straining their hearing. Through the static...they aren't sure but... _crash-boom-bam..._ sounds like a fight was going on. "Cecelia!" Gus bellowed again. "Do you read me?!"

" _GUS! ARE YOU THERE?! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"_ She came through in a panic. Her whimpers and cries broke the static in a piercing screech. " _GUS! OSWALD! MICKEY! ANYONE PLEASE!_ "

"CECELIA! WE'RE HERE!" Mickey screamed at the pin. No response except for static. "I don't get it! Why can't she hear us?!" He fretted.

"Her communicator pin must be malfunctioning!" Gus guessed. _ZAP! KA-BAM!_ Wherever Cecelia was, she was surviving by the skin of her feline tail. Something or someone was trying to eviscerate her.

"Sounds like she's in trouble!" Oswald cried.

" _GUS! I NEED HELP! THE FLOATYARD! OSWALD WAS RIGHT! PRESCOTT HE… AAAHHH!"_ With that scream...the pin went dead silent.

"Cecelia?! CECELIA?!" Gus screamed. He shook the pin, banging it on the rubble. Nothing. ABsolutely nothing.

"Her pin is dead!" Mickey cried.

"She said she's in the Floatyard!" Gus managed to catch before the pin died.

"Sounds like she and Prescott are in trouble!"

"Come on you guys! We have to go save them!" Oswald revved his ears into overdrive, rocketing into the sky and splitting the clouds apart. Gus tossed Mikey onto his back and made the mad dash to catch up. "Hold on, guys! Just hold on!" Oswald begged. No matter who or what awaits them at the Floatyard, Oswald won't lose his pals. Not this time, not ever!

 **To be Continued**


	18. The Darth Truth

**The Darth Truth**

 **xxx**

Much to his chagrin, Big Bad Pete was commissioned to leave the comfort of his air conditioned City Hall and venture into the humid Bog Easy. Not his first choice in any given situation. The place is disgusting. And it smelled. Or that could be him. He hasn't taken a bath in...well, it's been a while. With the bucket of sweat he worked up on the jaunt through the first projector, he might take three. All of this cardio and climbing can't possibly be good for him. His heart pumping, muscles aching, and the pinching nerves. Exercise! Who needs it? Lugging around a mechanical, one legged red bird on his back wasn't making his walk any easier. Honestly. What does that quack need with this rickety old thing? And why in the name of Wasteland's Spirits does he want it at his old lab in the Haunted Mansion's Attic? That place was burned to cinders last year. Wasn't it? That cat friend of Oswald's and Mickey's lost her cool and lit it on fire. Then again...he might have heard something about the Ghost Brothers refurbishing the dang thing. After all, it is the attic. Part of the roof. With all the rain that comes and goes, it's gotta be murder. Still, meeting in ruins of his lost lab was less appealing to Big Bad than carrying around the deadweight bird. Imagine his surprise when he made it up there.

The Mad Doctor gave Big Bad directions to a secret elevator he installed in the old cellar around back. The Ghost Brothers used to use it to store the Mardi Gras decorations, hoard Gilbert's collection of antiques, and keep Leona's old toys. Don't ask what those toys are. No one that doesn't live in the manor is allowed to know. All Leona reveals is that it gives too big a clue as to what she enjoyed in her corporeal form. Tedworth saw a whip and black masks. That's all anyone needed to know to kill the topic. Big Bad stomped the cellar open, throwing that clunking bird into the darkness. He cracked his hunched back with a satisfied sigh. Nice to take that load off. He tromped on down, dragging the bird across the hardstone flooring. The elevator The Doc mentioned was behind an old curtain. He threw in the bird, sucked in his gut and squeezed himself in. The elevator was flung by a high powered spring. Big Bad howled in terror. The residents of the manor stopped their card games, jax playing, and reading to nod in approval of the new agonized scream rummaging in their walls. Things are looking up.

The elevator arrived with a _ding._ The door opened. A pancaked Big Bad peeled off the ceiling, plopping to the floor. He popped back into form, rubbing his spinning head. The mechanical bird came loose from the ceiling as well, dropping on him with a loud THUD! "Ouch…" He whimpered.

"Oh good, you've arrived." The Mad Doctor casually moseyed in. "About time. I was worried you'd gotten lost." He picked up the bird carrying it like it was nothing.

Big Bad has never hated a man with animatronic parts more than he does now. That hatred subsided as he lugged himself out of the elevator and basked in the awe that was The Attic. "Sweet Jiminy Christmas in July and August!" He took off his hat, pressing it to his chest. His big black eyes beamed in the majesty that is the Haunted Mansion's Attic. It looks just like it did a year ago. Only cleaner. Amazing given the mansion was rocked by a quake. The floorboards had that shiny glaze to them. The one that you'd see in candyland and start drooling. _Plip...plip...plip._ Whoops. He really is drooling. But he can't help it. The Attic is night and day from the last time. Then he caught a glance of the rest of the attic and felt candyland go sour and moldy. "Spoke too soon." Only HALF of the attic looked like new. The rest was a bubbling vat of thinner. How that hasn't collapsed into the manor below is a real puzzler. The rickety old train set of his was barely hanging on by threads of threads that have been frayed. One little breeze would send them toppling. On the bright side the crates suspended above were holding firm. Big Bad's wonder that blinded him was gradually clearing. CLEAN only applied to what was actually there of the walls and floors. Two pools of thinner bubbled near him. And the rain was coming in from the nonexistent roof. And the costumes and play sets everywhere. Seriously. Big Bad doesn't have standards, but could The Doc at least tried to put an effort into fixing up his old pad. He stinks with Wasteland. And that giant vault door of his. Can't believe that thing survived.

"What in Wasteland did you do?!" The Mad Doctor snarled crossly. He set the red bird to a work table. The parts came undone at the metallic seams. A tiny ghost escaped him. "UGH! Did you drag it all the way here?!" He shouted red faced.

"HEY! You told me tuh bring dat stupid ting here! I did!" Big Bad growled impatiently. He rubbed his very tender back. "Nearly broke mah spine gettin' it here! So don't raise your voice at me!" He warned. The Mad Doctor rolled his eyes, returning to his work. He set a decorative red and black box aside. It captured Pete's intrigue. "Tell me dare's a good reason why ya had me lug dat stupid ting all the way here!"

"There is always a _good reason_ behind my madness, Big Bad Pete." The Mad Doctor retorted jadedly. Having his work questioned by a man who can barely tie his own shoes. How far he has sunken on the chain. "And thanks to you, my madness has been stalled for longer than I really needed it to be." He tapped a wing. Nuts and bolts popped off and it crumbled. He growled with irate squiggles seething above his head. What should be a simple plan is breeding all sorts of hassles. Number one being The Mad Doctor's choice in companions. He inhaled calmly from his nose, then exhaled aggressively from his mouth. He pulled his tools from underneath the table and got to work. "This needs to be up and running before that Mouse and Rabbit arrive." He leered to his small box. "These are crucial to my success."

"What are dese tings for anyways?!" Big Bad tromped to the box, poking at it and fidgeting at it like an alien lifeform.

The Mad Doctor stole the box away like he was a child. He set it under the table where he couldn't touch it. Big Bad Pouted with his cheeks propped to his knuckles. He leaned on his elbows to the table. His puffing cheeks demanded The Mad Doctor answer. He was all too happy to. "There might be a way more cruel to deal with my two little troubling lovers." He purred adoringly. He pet his bird lovingly. "With this, I can guarantee Prescott's doom. And with this," He chuckled, kneeling to the small box beneath. The shadow of the table causing his glare to glow, "I can guarantee Cecelia's quick departure from this mortal coil." He cackled darkly, hungering for the delicious treat hidden in that box. Cecelia will never see it coming.

 **xxx**

' _Soon they'll all remember the name Prescott._ '

Over and over like a requiem knell she heard him say, _they'll remember the name, they'll remember the name._ The desire and hatred that seethed on his tongue on every syllable corroded her insides. _What did he mean by that?_ She kept asking herself, pleading for an answer. Everyone already knows his name. And how can anyone forget a grouch like him? He's the reason Wasteland has projectors with which to travel. He built the gags that brings smiles to everyone's faces. And it's thanks to him The Blot was defeated and Cecelia's life saved. He's done so much for this land, much more for the people and his friends. Cecelia hasn't heard a single cross word about him - save for the occasional complaint about his temper - in regards to his character. Prescott is a grump, hostile with his work, not all that welcoming with people, and is a total loner. But that doesn't make him a bad person. And it doesn't mean he's...he's behind what's been happening. He's just...stressed. That's all. The quake and aftershocks, the projectors going off and then on again, and now someone's using his gags to hurt others. Whatever he's doing out here at the Dioramas isn't anything bad. He's only out here to work and hopefully calm himself down. And by the time Cecelia reaches him this whole mess will be cleared up. That's if she can stop being amazed by every diorama in the attraction.

"Prescott, you have been busy." Cecelia whispered to herself in awe. She was cautious on her rounds through the dioramas. She doesn't mistrust the ABE unit programmed into the attraction. At the same time she can't risk Prescott knowing she's there. With the way she's geeking out over the amazing detail in the yet to function ride, she's likely to get herself busted. But she can't help it. The first diorama of the Clock Tower was breathtaking. The next one, The Mad Doctor's Lab, was a chilling blast from the past. Cecelia felt like she was back inside the place on that table she and Mickey we're experimented on. The Ghoul Blotlings sinking their boney fingers into their skulls. "Brr!" That's a shiver down her spine she never wants to feel again. Too many bad memories. Especially when she thinks about how grateful she is that Prescott modeled from before her visit. There'd be nothing left.

The next diorama terrified her in a good way. Oswald and Mickey's defeat of The Blot. Man, now she REALLY wishes she knew a time spell. That way she can go back in time and watch The Blot be blown away by the fireworks. As he tries to bring Wasteland to its knees under his thrall, Mickey and Oswald mount the fireworks and take him out. And if what Mickey says is true, he regained his heart after sacrificing it to save Gus and Oswald from being crushed. From there on in, Oswald trusted Mickey without fault and was able to rescue his home. She really lucked out meeting these two. A very amazing duo. Honorable, dedicated, brave...and all around good guys. She'd never trade them. Not them, Gus, Ortensia, or Prescott. It's thanks to them she's as strong as she is now, and why she and wake up everyday and not loath herself. Thanks to them...she isn't scared of herself.

A vacant room was added after The Blot's Defeat Diorama. Cutouts of Mickey, Oswald, Ortensia, Gus, Prescott, and both Cecelia's child and adult forms lied on the ground. The child cut out had shifting eyes. Red to green. The adult had a spellbook and a fuzzy yellow outline. Along with some plywood, crates of springs, cables, platforms, and hooks. Setup at the walls are the setting backgrounds. One was of Dark Beauty Castle, and the other, from what Cecelia can make out, was the cliffside beyond the castle. "This looks like it's the-" In the midst of her ogling, Cecelia tripped on some extra cutouts. She snarled irritably, shouting very colorful curse words. She turned to see what she tripped on. She lost her breath. She crawled on her hands and knees, sitting over a cutout of...a coffin. Her in it, and Prescott over her. Tears in his eyes. Her stomach was in knots. The detail in her death made her want to cry. This is what everyone saw. The second one made her blush beet red. Prescott was leaning in and kissing her, a depiction of her heart between them. The final one was Cecelia waking up and she and Prescott having a fairytale ending. A lone tear of pure bliss ran down her cheek, splashing to the cutout. "Prescott…" Her heart raced out of control, her face lighting up pure red. She leaned in, planting a kiss to him. _I love you._ She swooned. She loves him so much. Which will only amplify her pain should her darkest fear come to fruition.

Cecelia heard Abe making his rounds. She needed to get out of there fast. She conjured the wind to her little feet, making a defying leap across the black gap at the tracks. She dove headfirst into the projector, escaping mere seconds before Abe popped in. The robotic tour guide was baffled by all the noise he heard. Sounded like someone was rummaging around in there. He'd blame his imagination, but he wasn't programmed with one. Clearly no one was there, so obviously something's off with him. He'll ask Prescott for a tune up the next time he stops in.

 **xxx**

Cecelia launched from the projector into a tumble, skipping on a wooden pier on her butt. A cow-like couple saw her and gasped, almost appalled by her flamboyant entrance. "Ouch! I should really invest in some padding." She rubbed her sore rump. Seriously, she's amazed she has a butt left. She rose slowly, dusting her skirt off and soothed the throbbing. She moaned disheartened by an ocean of thinner surrounding the pier. The rock fissures in the distance were a nice sight. Added a bit of character to...wherever she landed. Too bad she isn't looking for a ship to go explore that way. What she sought was ahead of her. She can only imagine the disaster that lies ahead. Her jaw hit the ground.

"WOW, WOW, WOW! AMAZING!" Cecelia squealed, eyes glistening at the gem that is Fort Wasteland. It's simply breathtaking. She was tripping over herself and almost falling off the pier. The cow couple were seriously doubting her mental faculties. "This is Fort Wasteland?!" She gasped, her head craning to take it all in. She has to admit her absolute shock. It's like a massive, fortified treehouse on the ground. From the end of the boardwalk entrance she made out the rock formations that beautiful intermingled with the trees. The towering wall safeguarding the fort from outside invaders looked able to withstand a meteor storm. In spite of it resembling a patchwork job of junk. She should know better than to doubt the tenacity and creativity of Wasteland's people. They can take anything that falls from the sky and turn it into a work of art. The tattered sails around the boardwalk spoke to the age of The Fort, regaling those who come in the struggles it's faced and survived. The branching woodlands it occupied and protected was flourishing beautiful with fresh greenery. "Oh man! I bet it's even more incredible inside!" She squeaked. Her tail was wagging, her ears perking up and down.

"You bet it is!" Ian materialized from the blue. His Napoleon cap made Cecelia giggle. He looked good with it on. Ian drew her in with an arm around her shoulders. "Great sight, ain't it?" He glided a hand to the majesty.

"It's breathtaking, Ian! I'm seriously envious!" Nowhere in her world or the human world has a place like this. If it does, she has to visit. But she doubts someone like Ian is managing those places. Less than likely is it standing.

"Wanna know the funny thing?" Ian quizzed. Cecelia loves to laugh. "Dis here has been lost since duh Thinner Disaster! Only just resurfaced within the last year!" Cecelia's mouth parted in awe. "And by the time any of us realized it was here, duh Blotlings had taken it over. And ya know what?"

"What?"

"They've been happy as clams ever since. Even wit' duh quake."

"Wow…" A paradise for Blotlings. It...actually...sounded really interesting. Cecelia was almost happy they had a place to call home. And an advocate like Ian on their side guarantees they'll get to keep it. "You've got a good thing going here." She praised.

"PFFT! A good thing my hide!" The cow woman to the side scoffed. Ian groaned annoyed at her and her husband. Cecelia arched a bewildered and quite offended brow. "Do you not see the Blotlings tarnishing this place with their taint?!" Would she make this woman's bell ring if she said she saw them but really didn't care at the moment? "These Blotlings don't belong here! You should do your duty and be rid of them!"

"My duty?" Cecelia questioned curtly. Her raised hand to Ian's mouth stopped the outrage ready to spill. "And what is my duty exactly?"

"To protect us from spawns of The Blot, of course!" The cow man snorted. "

"Ian asked me not to touch them, I'm respecting his wishes!" "Besides, The Blotlings aren't bothering anyone. They actually look happy and content." "This is the only place in Wasteland big enough for them."

"Are you seriously taking their side?!" The woman barked.

"Figures one freak will side with another!" The man stabbed. Cecelia's eyes partially lidded.

Ian was heating up like a teapot. "Now you wait just a minute-" Ian searing red tirade fizzled to a sputter.

Cecelia extended a hand, forbidding him from defending her. She's got this. Her austere glare never left the fuming couple. Though she can see in their eyes they savored that freaks jab. Cecelia loves people whose pride is about to send them plummeting. "Permit me a question that I hope isn't beyond your meager mental abilities." The cow couple gasped affronted. They do believe she accused them of being stupid. "I am going to go into that fort and do as you two wish. I'm going to kill any Blotling I see and cause a mass riot that will likely chase those I miss out." Ian shrieked horrified. She's going to betray him just like that? The cow people were grinning at having won. But Cecelia hadn't asked her question yet. "When I've cleared them from this clearly spacious place where they've happily and peacefully for quite some time now," Cecelia narrowed her eyes, brazenly daring them to answer with a straight face, "What will the escape Blotlings do in retaliation?" Ian's eye twinkled.

"Who cares as long as they are gone?!" The cow woman spat.

"Indeed!" The man huffed.

Cecelia and Ian snickered to one another. "Just flew over their heads, didn't it?" Ian mocked.

"A about a mile or two over." Cecelia scoffed. The couple grimaced at their shared taunting. They missed the joke. "All me to clear this matter up for you two." She cleared her throat. She took in a deep breath, "The end result will be a mass stampede of rampaging Blotlings ravaging other regions of Wasteland, and likely chasing out residents in order to find a new place to call home!" He shouting was like a hurricane, nearly blowing the couple over. Ian was finding the breeze quite nice. "People hurt, homes destroyed, another crisis on top of another! You get it?!" They opened their mouths to protest. "Don't answer that! I can already smell the idiocy on your breath!" Their lips curled in. They sucked on their anger at being insulted by a child. "You guys lost this place! The Blotlings found it! Don't like it? Take it up with Oswald! But I will not go against Ian's wishes. Especially when a brighter future is ahead."

"And what future is that, PRAYTELL!" The cow man challenged.

"One where you guys learn to get along with these guys!" She grabbed Ian by the wrist and marched onward. She picked up speed so she wouldn't have to remark on her double standard. She hates the Blotlings more than anyone. But she cares about Ian. The cow couple went back to brooding in a corner.

"Thanks, Kid." Ina breathed, in tears of the save.

"Of course, Ian. Like I said, you have a good thing going here." While she and others don't agree with it, who are they to stop him? She doesn't want to see that hard work go to waste.

"Speaking of good things," Ian pointed at The Fort, "I saw yer boyfriend headin' inside. You can probably still catch him."

Dang! She almost forgot! "Thanks, Ian!" Ian laughed as she took off, then wound himself in a ball and disappeared. Cecelia skipped past the thinned out pieces of boardwalk, coming up to the wall itself. Shadows grew around her. "Huh? WHOA!" Cecelia crossed her wrists. Raining balls of thinner splashed harshly to her dome shaped shield. "Where did that come from?!" She shouted. The culprits were mounted on the wall. Thinner cannons alternating turns from their slots aimed at her. "It's a fort, Cecelia, OF COURSE IT HAS CANNONS!" She cursed her short sightedness. Two more large globs splashed on her shield. Thinner was leaking through the cracks. She hissed with her fangs showing. The cannons hid behind bottle cap doors. All due respect to The Fort, those are going to be locked for a while. She waited for one to close. " _STAY!_ " She cried. A grey palm launched and spanned to the cap. It thumped violently to open. " _STAY! STAY!_ " She launched more, covering the closing cannon doors. Their fight to get free was stressing the spells. "Time to move!"

Cecelia came to a ledge way beyond her reach. Tall mushrooms she could use were thinned out. No use wasting more energy with a wind jump. She'll be out of wind at this rate. Gus showed her alternative ways of utilizing her powers. Time to start alternating. Before the grey palms up there dissipate. "Grass blades…" Long blades of moist grass drooped over the ledge. That took her back to her first visit to Bog Easy. On their way to the manor, she used a spell to weave a ladder from vines. "Lightbulb!" She set her hands to the grass. " _Procurro!_ " She whispered softly, closing her eyes. Seed like lights fed into grass. Their bodies volumized, absorbing twice the nutrients from the soil. Cecelia grabbed hold of their slick bodies, digging her shoes into the rock and pulling up. She hooked her nails to the ledge, slipping on. "Oh shoot!" She gulped. A Spladoosh was waiting for her. She threw a fistful of her blue sleeping dust, ensuring she doesn't get a helping of Spladoosh thinner.

The disembodied palms holding the cannons at bay were phasing in and out. She made a mad dash to the Mickey Mouse watch platform, jumping onto a half painted log bridging to the next ledge. She saw another Spladoosh at the end. She balled more blue dust and pitched a rather impressive curveball. It burst in the Spladoosh's face. It jolted awake, then slumped back into slumber. She dashed right by him. She tiptoed back for a quick spell and mewled over how cute Spladooshes look when they're sleep. She made the mistake of touching it. She cringed at the cold squishiness seeping between her fingers. "Eww…" She wiped the ink onto a stump. She returned to her run, already certain she's fallen well behind Prescott at this point. She was about to pout on the large pocket watch lying at the entrance when a purple splotch floating near some nests made her heart skip a beat. "Prescott?" He wasn't far at all.

Prescott was viciously going at mechanical dragonfly perched to a lengthy branch protruding from a large tree trunk. The tree occupied a space in the bedrock and cliff. Cecelia tilted her head curiously, finding that branch resembled...a nose? Now that she takes a better look, and tries not to shudder, that tree trunk had a face carved in it. The Fort has suddenly been added to her list of strange places to be. "Uh-oh!" A mouth opened in the tree. Prescott was about to leave. _What do I do? What do I do?_ She panicked in her mind. He's more than likely going to ask what she's going out here. And he'll especially wonder how she knew where to find him. And how long she's been following him and which route she took. None of which she has an answer prepared for. _He's going to be mad at me._ She shrank into herself. Her ear drooped, her tail wrapping at her waist. _If I don't say something, he's going to get away!_ But if she does, who knows how he might react. Prescott was dusting his hands of the work he'd done. He was floating into the mouth of the trunk. "Prescott! There you are!" Cecelia blurted out of the blue. Prescott froze on the spot. If she were closer she'd see the large drops of sweat falling down her brow. He turned slowly, a terrified expression petrified to his face. Cecelia cringed, swallowing a large lump. _You idiot! Of all the things to shout!_ Too late to have regrets now.

"Cecelia?!" Prescott's cracking voice rose. Cecelia took a breath and jumped from one nest to the next over to him. Prescott was stammered like made. He broke into a cold sweat, fumbling to make a decent sentence. Cecelia was worried she broke him. "W-W-W-What are you doing here?! How did you find me?!" He was crossed between upset and absolutely shocked. He's honestly taking this better than she thought he would.

 _How did I find you?_ He's acting like he was caught with his hand in the Maple Nut Cookie jar. He was jittery, eyes darting everywhere, and he wouldn't stop fussing with a black jar on his hip. _Why are you so nervous?_ "Never mind that now." _I tracked you like a bloodhound, spied on you in the diorama, and just followed you into The Fort._ She reiterated sardonically in her head. She'll keep that to herself. "We have trouble!" She reached out and grabbed his hand. A numbing and soul crushing spark exploded inside her, tearing her in half so fiercely she felt herself go cold then hot. Her crimson eyes shrank to horrified dots. She was paling. _Again! There it is again!_ It's stronger than before. Barbed coils weaving to her flesh, wrapping at her neck and skull. She felt the muscles straining as it turned. Her attention dropped to the black jar. Prescott's hand shot to it, hiding it behind his back. _What's in that jar?!_ She frothed.

"Cecelia? Are you alright?" Prescott placing a hand to her forehead terrified her. She yelped aloud, jerking back. "UGH! CECELIA!" Her foot slipped on the moist twigs, a weightlessness taking hold and pulling her for the hard ground below. Prescott latched onto her wrist. He pulled her up with all his strength, taking her securely in his arms. "I've got you!" He placed a hand at her head. She was hyperventilating, her heart ready to burst. Her fingers tensed to his arm. Those arms...arms she been in hundreds of times and felt safe in...burned her skin. _Run._ Her mind was screaming. _Run away now!_ Why? Why does she want to run? "Please don't hurt yourself on my account." Prescott teased her. He broke the hug, brushing fingers from her face so he may cup her cheek. "I don't think your grandfather will forgive me if you were injured under my watch." There is a strong taste of irony in that statement. "Now, what has brought you here so urgently? And how in Wasteland did you make it here past the Blotlings?"

"I…" She trailed off bashfully. _What brought me here? I'm doubting you and want to stop, that's what!_ Her brow furrowed. "I'm not completely helpless, you know! I told you I have some magic!" She fluttered fingers in his face. He flinched at the crackling dust rising. Prescott laughed nervously. He forgot about that. "As for WHY I'm here," She showed him the chatter teeth, "Someone sabotaged the projectors! They used one of YOUR gags to do it!"

"You don't say!"

"I do say!" She tugged on his hand. "We have to get back to the substation and see what else this saboteur has done!" Prescott was stubbornly budging, resisting her pulls. "If we don't, there's a chance you could be blamed!" She begged. _Why aren't you coming?!_ He's digging his heels in. Like he doesn't want to go.

"Argh. And yet another mess throwing itself at me." Prescott seethed under his breath. In the midst of his deep thoughts he was fending off Cecelia. _I can't go with her. But I don't go...she'll..._ Prescott squeezed his eyes closed, growling in the back of his throat. _There's no choice now!_ "Fine! I'll get back there soon! I need to see to something first!" Cecelia ogled him suspiciously, sending ice down his spine. She released his hand, acquiescing to his request. Prescott was able to relax, but he can see clear as day that she was dying to ask what was so important. And he wasn't about to tell her. Not yet. "Since you're here...um...why don't I give you a tour?"

"A tour? Now?" She gasped. This is hardly the time.

"Why not?! I mean…" He came in close, wrapping a an arm around the waste. He wiggled his brow with a charismatic grin, "We ARE overdue for a long needed date. And this is a chance to ensure there are no more sour feelings between us."

No sour feelings. Cecelia blushed, placing a hand to her waning heart. _Sour_ doesn't begin to describe what curdling her. She wants to scream until her voice breaks, and blow one gaping hole inside a mountain and then another one. She wants to shoot herself in the foot. Strangle Oswald by his ears. Drown Mickey in pant. She wants to go on an all out rampage. ANYTHING...just anything that will make her stop feeling so...so sad. "You know what?" These welling feelings - they're a sign. A date might be the ticket. "You're absolutely right." She pressed herself to him, wrapping both her arms around his neck. "I'd be delighted to go on a date with you."

"Ha-Ha...I knew you would." He slipped a hand to her cheek, drawing her into a passionate, deep kiss. _This is wrong_

Cecelia pressed into him. _This is wrong._

The two parted with awkward smiles. Prescott scooped her up like a bride, carrying her inside the tree's mouth. Unbeknownst to either, the other thought, _What we are doing...is very wrong._ Never has either yearned more than to be as far apart as possible from one another. To go about their day in the ignorance of what the other is doing. The pain that grows between them...will only crush them body and soul when their delusions have reached their end.

Crossing the tree mouth had a bit of a hallelujah effect on Prescott and Cecelia. The forest grounds on the other side basked in glittering rays of sunlight. The leaves doused in morning dew gleamed vibrantaly. The sky touching pines awash with a thriving aroma. Above, woven within the canopy, traces of the piercing sun created a mosaic of colors that glazed the land. It was beautiful. Until a Spatter hawked up an ink luggie and ruined the moment. It's easy to forget there are Blotlings running around when admiring something beautiful. Cecelia and Prescott's date wasn't as romantic as they wanted it to be. On the bright side though, this is the first time they've gotten to be alone together in a good long while. Why not enjoy one another's company. Regardless of the Spatters, Spladooshes, Dropwings, and Sweepers lurking nearby. Nothing says romance like creatures that want to devour your flesh. Luckily Prescott had the power of flight on his side. The Dropwings had it as well, but were far too busy floating around aimlessly. Their attention glued to the neutral guardian pool swimming on through. The Spladooshes were sound asleep, as per usual. And Spatters can't even jump, let alone climb. Prescott was able to fly them up, over, and into the next area.

A large gate kept the Blotlings out. Cecelia isn't too sure what they're being kept from. It's just more junk stacked to make a weird playground. "I'm starting to sense a pattern whenever you and I go on dates." Prescott chortled.

"A pattern?" Cecelia asked as she was set down.

"You and I run into trouble no matter how hard we try to avoid it." He teased. "Our first date to Ventureland with Hook's lackeys and The Blot chasing us." How can she forget that? That boat race of death through the trenches of Tortooga's township. And what was supposed to be a kiss at sunset end to the day was interrupted by The Blot. Cecelia blushed pink. Now that she thinks about it...that's the moment she knew she loved him. He was willing to lay down his life for her. He treated her like a person. Saw her as one. Thinking on it...she was falling in love with him again.

Cecelia giggled chipperly into a curled hand. "Remember that hair formula you tested on me?" Prescott broke into a cherry red blush, rubbing the back of his head bashfully. "We were supposed to go on a date then, but you made that formula and HAD to test it out."

"Ugh! It took weeks to clean!" Prescott moaned. He smashed his face into his palms. The most embarrassing part though, that was the first time he fumbled in front of Cecelia. Not true. He's fumbled a lot with his experiments. Embarrassed himself right out of color. Sometimes she'd take the brunt of his mistakes...and she'd just laugh. She always laughs when he messes up. He used to get annoyed.. Thinking she was mocking him. It was just the opposite. She wasn't laughing at him. She was laughing with him. Mistakes are how a person grows, is what she told him. And she loved how squeamish he gets when he trips up. She always encouraged him to try harder, and come back stronger than before. She inspires him. It's for that reason he...he can't stop falling in love with her.

"Alright, enough reminiscing! What are we doing here?" Cecelia digressed impatiently.

"Ah, yes!" Prescott put a hand to his forehead like a visor. He hummed pensively. "I know it's around here somewhere." He mumbled.

Cecelia just let him scour the dirt. She sat over on a stack of long plywood, rolling a large mud ball with her toe. Without her or Prescott noticing, large hands with gnarly talons drumbed to the edge of the weed filled ledge behind her. Malicious green eyes poked over. An all green mouth parted into a sinister smile. A massive body loomed above Cecelia, its black, oozing body melting down. Large drops formed on thin lines. One snapped off. _Splat!_ "UGH! EW!" Something cold, squishy, and smelly just oozed onto her her. She really doesn't want to see what it is, but Prescott better hurry up before Ian files a complaint about missing birds. She swallowed some bile back, shakily lifting a hand to wipe it off. She whimpered like a puppy, closing her eyes as she touched it. "Huh?" Her hand squished into it. Doesn't feel like any bird poop she's come across. She brought her hand down. Black gunk was all over her hand. Sort of looked like...ink? _Splat! Splat!_ More was splashing on either side of her. Another glob landed on her shoulder. Cecelia looked up. She went green in the face. Of all the Blotlings, a Slobber was wiggling fingers at her in a mocking wave. "Prescott, please tell me you found what you're looking for!"

"Not yet!" He kicked at the dirt. "I know it was around here somewhere. I just put it in." He muttered to himself.

"You don't know how sorry I am to hear that!" The Slobber leapt forth. He poured his weight down, coming in fast for Cecelia. "YIPES!" She dove off the wood. The Slobber crash landed with dust and a whole lot of splinter spraying everywhere. Cecelia skipped off a palm, flipping to an all fours slide to Prescott.

"What the?! Where did that thing come from?!" Prescott roared. He powered up his kinetic glove. The Slobber roared at the top of his lungs. Globs of thinner launched from his big mouth. Cecelia spread her feet, then swept her hands. An aura shield spanned. The thinner glob splattered and ate at the shield. Prescott knit his brow. _She does still have power._ "Grah! No matter!" A mass amount of power built into the palm of his glove. A tingling sensation crawled to Cecelia's skin. She felt weak, yet empowered at the same time. Her shield thicken right before her eyes, absorbing the globs. _What?_ "I'll make quick work of him!" Prescott vowed. He drew his hand back.

"NO!" Cecelia dropped her shield and tackled him. The blast fire prematurely, missing The Slobber by a mile and blowing a gaping hole in the wall behind him. He laughed at them. "Phew. That was close."

"Why did you stop me?!" Prescott fumed from beneath her.

"I promised Ian none of the Blotlings would be hurt! I intend to keep that promise!" She jabbed a finger in his hard skull.

"Are you serious?!" He bucked her off. He pinched her cheeks, stretching them out. "These monsters are responsible for the misery and death of others!" She can't tell him she's forgotten that.

"SO AM I!" She shouted. Prescott stopped pulling, trapped in horrified shock. She removed his fingers, ignoring the stinging in her searing red cheeks. "I've killed people too, Prescott! I even had a couple outside here call me a freak and a traitor!" She glared at The Slobber. It's a long shot, but that could be her. "If I wasn't given a chance, if you and others hadn't stood up for me," She placed a hand to his shoulder, "I'd be just like the Blotlings. Destroying everything."

Prescott released a defeated breath. She'd be nothing like them, in his opinion. But he understands what she means. And while he doesn't agree with Ian on this, he'll support Cecelia's wish. "You're too good for this world, Cecelia." He praised. She grinned victoriously. "Then what do you propose we do?"

"Get creative." She tapped at her head. Prescott's sure he just missed the joke. The Slobber roared again, charging with his arms out and fingers clamping at the air. Prescott and Cecelia dashed off in either direction. They launched blind attacks into his back. Glancing kinetic blows that weakened the stability of his body. Glowing orbs that burned into him, created hardened puck spots. Cecelia studied what she had to work with. This place was more than just a junkyard. It was a residence that has yet to be utilized. She had boarded off buildings, barrels filled with...she got a better look...PAINT! _That's right!_ "WHOA!" Cecelia flattened herself to the ground, narrowly evading a mouth full of thinner. A rippling kinetic wave pushed the Slobber away from her. Prescott flew at top speed to force him along. The Slobber dug his heels in, snarling venomously at Prescott. Slobbers can be painted or thinned if they swallow it. No way that thing will open it's mouth for them willingly. They have to make him. And that platform suspended by the crane was just the ticket. "PRESCOTT!"

The gremlin's blast was cut short. The Slobber snatched him up then chucked him at the wall. "YES, DEAR!" He slid to a thud.

"Lure the Slobber under that platform. I'll do the rest!" Cecelia climbed a stairway of crates.

"The rest of what?!" He rubbed his tender hind quarters. She was already gone and doing her own thing. "That girl is going to be the death of me!" That's if the Slobber doesn't kill him first. He towered over the fallen gremlin. Both hands cupped together he raised them high. Prescott knit his brow. He twisted the cork on the heavy jar, slipping a finger to the ridge. " _...glacies..._ " He whispered almost inaudibly. Cecelia was crawling along the crane when he ears twitched at the echo. Prescott lunged forth, planting a palm to The Slobber's stomach. He grunted baffled. Ice bloomed from his stomach, snaking up to his under arms. He was stuck like that. Before he could turn around, and before Cecelia saw, Prescott drew power to a fist and unleashed a devastating punch. The ice shattered, tearing a chunks from The Slobber, and sent it hurtling mere inches from where Cecelia set her trap.

The feline companion was speechless by the strike. She wiggled a finger in her itching ear. If she hearing things now? She caught Prescott fiddling with that damn jar again. She intends to find out what's in there. "Hm…" On the ground near splotches of the Slobber. Is that...ice? Where did ice come from? _Grr! I don't have time for this._ Right now the slid down the cable, dropping onto the platform. Afterward, she'll be getting some answers. She spat to her palms, rubbing them together. She spotted the four barrels of paint she needed. She extended her hands, " _Veni ad me!_ " The barrels shakily came loose from the soil. Cecelia flourished her arms in circular motions, guiding the barrels to her. She gently arranged them around her, removing their lids. She traced fingers to the bottom, gluing them in place. "Alright. That should work. Hopefully." She wiped sweat from her brow. "PRESCOTT, NOW!"

"WORKING ON IT!" He shouted, dodging The Slobber's boorishly swinging fists. His missing body mass regenerated itself, bringing him back to full strength in seconds. Prescott drew a fist back. " _...submergo!..._ " Cecelia heard it again. Prescott's fist dug into the soil with ease. He unleashed the full power of his glove. The ground vibrated right under the panicking Slobber, sloshing his tiny legs. Chunks of ground ruptured in a trail right to him. The soil burst at his feet, a strong gust throwing him for a loop, sending his sliding right underneath the platform. He lied there on his back, disoriented and defeated.

"Yoo-hoo!" Cecelia's coo brought him back. "Open wide and say AHH!" She cut the two ropes diagonal from one another. Cecelia pushed off one end in a jump, grabbing hold of the secure cable. The Slobber sucked his mouth close at the barrels of paint flipping and spilling. Prescott came from above and barreled into his stomach. The Slobber opened his mouth in a pained wail. The paint flooded his mouth, spilling into his gullet. His stomach rolled. His jet black skin brightened to a shade of powder blue. The Slobber moaned sickly, eyes spinning. Were it that Mickey was the one to paint him in, The Slobber would be cute as a puppy. Friendly as one too. Instead he passed out in a paint induced coma.

"Woops." Cecelia laughed meekyly. She climbed on down, lurching over the dazed Slobber. She tapped him twice with her toe. He groaned. He was still alive. But his tummy was going to be upset for a while. "I hope Ian doesn't mind." She prayed.

"Never mind that blob! We have to go!" Prescott boomed. He found what he was looking for. A hatch to the D.E.C for here in Fort Wasteland. They really were built everywhere. "Hurry up if you're still coming! We're running out of time!" Cecelia closed her mouth, staring hard at his rushing. _Why in such a hurry, Press?_ She pondered suspiciously. She glared at his glove and that jar. "Will you stop staring and come on!" He barked, hiding the jar and glove. With a certain reluctance, Cecelia followed him inside. She really hates the D.E.C. More than the projectors. That place is like Wonderland had a kid with Neverland. That aside, while she's been enjoying his company, Cecelia needed to get Prescott back to deal with the projector problem. Unless...what he needs to fix that problem is- "If you're not coming, I'm going on ahead!" Prescott threw the lid open and dove inside.

"HEY! WAIT UP!" Cecelia ran and slid, narrowly making it inside as the lid closed.

 **xxx**

The Mad Doctor obscured himself within the thicket of forestry within The Fort. He was churning from the sweetness displayed that he felt a coma setting in. Precious Cecelia was reunited with her beloved Prescott. They've kissed, they've hugged, they've come to grips that the other is being false with them. And now they have fought together, supported one another as they did one year ago. That bridge of trust was strengthened. Perfect. Simply perfect. "The characters have come together. The plot has thickened to bursting." He lifted the tiny box, and used his other hand to pet his mechanical bird. "And now the curtain opens to the climax, and the main event can now unfold." And he will have a front row seat for every second of it.

 **xxx**

The D.E.C hatch clattered rampantly. A little foot kicked it open, and Cecelia was flying out. "AIR!" She flopped to the surprisingly cold and wet soil, taking in the fresh... _night_ air. "Sweet...sweet. FREE AIR!" She rolled onto her back, sighing blissfully. Her eyes fluttered open. Everything was black briefly. Her sight adjusted to the sudden darkness, astonishing her by the starry night sky above her. "Wow. So beautiful." Being stuck in the D.E.C, Cecelia's sense of time was thrown way off. It was the middle of the day at The Fort. Guess that dew she saw wasn't really dew. Just moisture. Nevertheless the time, she basked in the beautiful star filled ebony. Washed herself in the cool night breeze. She felt her stresses fade from her sore body. The whistling of the air howling harmoniously from the abyssal horizon to her left. The dank and murky fog rolling by would normally unnerve her. Instead, watching it tuck and fold in itself, massaged her woes and worries. She sat up on her palms to admire the scenery properly. Her crimson orbs glistened in the festive lights tracing a pirate ship that somehow ran aground here. A jeweled skull was dangling from the main mast, wafting in the wind. Blue and grey cylindrical vents swayed on bars mounted to bedrock. Their lights flickered between colors on each swing. "What is this place?" She shivered at her breathy question echoing in the eerie silence. The ringing in her ear should have clued her in. There's nothing out here. No one.

"This is The Floatyard." Prescott responded, closing the D.E.C behind him. "Just one of the many places I come to in order to work in peace." He snalred.

So this is the marvelous Floatyard. Cecelia wasn't disappointed. "So, why are you out here today?" She asked intrigued. She rose to her feet, dusting off her palms and skirt. "Is it work or something else?"

"Something else, I'm afraid. I have a lot of thinking to do." He stated with a roll of his eyes. He floated past a gawking Cecelia. "And with everyone in a panic back home, it's hard to do that." He started hammering at a large door with Mickey's Logo on it. "It's a wonder I can focus at all in that moronic factory!"

"Thinking?" She gasped stunned. That's why he came all the way out here? TO THINK? He wasn't looking for the saboteur? He isn't remotely interested in the fact he's going to be blamed for the projectors breaking? He's only out here because...he wanted to get away from everyone? HAS HE LOST HIS MIND?! "Prescott, this is not time for thinking! We have a serious problem here!"

"Don't I know it!" He dug into his suit. A ridiculously long list unrolled past Cecelia and off the cliff ledge. "I am so far behind on my work that it's grown a few inches! Speaking of which…" He took out a red pen. "I did this, finished that, decided to scrap that…"

Cecelia shook her head aghast her mouth gaping. She can't believe this. He's treating this like a joke. "PRESCOTT!" She screamed shrilly. "Please, we need your help! Someone sabotaged YOUR projectors! Fingers will be pointing at you!" She screeched desperately. She doesn't know how else she can get through to him. "We need to fight this!" She clenched a fist.

"No we don't." He strapped the wrench to his back. He pulled out a can of oil, going to the hinges.

"Yes we do!" An orange glazed shaped to her hand. She struck out with an elastic candied palm, latching onto Prescott's foot. She yanked him from that moronic door, dragging him through the dirt to her feet. He was impassive as he stopped before her. He might as well listen. "Don't you get it yet?! I came all the way out here in the hopes you would lead the charge in this fight!" She confessed with her hands to her chest. "Last time your projectors were broken you became a relentless raging lunatic! I need that lunatic right now!" Not this lackadaisical lump that's acting like Cecelia told him someone broke a gag. Why? Why won't he react like he should? "Someone is trying to frame you! They want to pin the blame on you while their true scheme is hatched! I don't want to see that happen." Prescott's head turned. He hid a somber dissolution from her. His rippling eyes glossing with tears. _No, Cecelia. Please. You have to stop._ "You helped me fight when it was hopeless. Now it's my turn!" She lent him a hand.

Prescott ogled it sadly, then looked up at her. There it is. That unyielding flame burning brightly in those orbs. Her unwavering faith and determination. "You're not going to stop, are you?"

No. I'll keep digging till I find who's behind this!" She proclaimed with her absolute oath. "I promise, Prescott. For you," She smiled sweetly, "I'll never stop."

Prescott felt himself tear agonizingly in half. His soul sundered to thousands of pieces. The guilt and torment crushing him in the palm of its hand. He knows her words ring true. She won't stop. She never quits when she puts her heart into something. She'll learn the truth. Learn everything and shed light on what and who has caused Wasteland so much misery. "Then…" _There is no other choice,_ "I guess I have no choice." He hesitantly raised his gloved hand for hers. Cecelia smiled thinking he was taking it. Prescott expression sharpened into outright rage. A invisible jolt struck the inside of her body. That feeling! Dismay mangled Cecelia's smile. A blinding, waving light surrounded the glove. Cecelia's eyes widened. The intensity of the light, the thrall of the energy, the suffocating air exuding. This is...no…! Her eyes fell to the jar. An insulated cord was fastened in place of the cork, energy pumping through it like blood in a vein. "Forgive me." Prescott moaned. " _May the wind be at my command!_ " A treble was in his voice. Cecelia broke from her terror. She staggered to get away. Prescott darted forward, a palm to her chest as he looked her straight in the eye." _Ventum repellere!_ " Cecelia gaped in horror. A wild intake of wind gathered to the center of his pulse. A crushing pulse erupted, launching Cecelia like a torpedo, crashing her into the hull of the ship. It caved in, the splintering wood mounting her firmly. A raspy breath escaped from her wincing face. Prescott relaxed his hand, standing tall and proud for a successful execution. His brow knit further. Cecelia was still kicking, stirring already. In the midst of her wiggling he saw a fluctuating glaze shielding shaped at her back. Traces of wood, he can see, were melted into a cushiony substance She softened her impact last second."Hmph. Ever the clever one." Cecelia managed to peel herself free, but was in a free fall for a painful landing. Prescott, despising such actions, flicked his wrist effortlessly. An invisible force swatted Cecelia second before she hit, bouncing her off the ship and into the dirt. She wasn't able to soften her fall, but she was still picking herself up. "That's right. You won't fall easily."

" _COUGH! COUGH! PAH!_ " She hawked up blood, her lungs on fire in white pain. She can hardly breathe. From her head to her toes, everything was hurting. Still she was not deterred. Refusing to stay in the dirt she propped herself from her elbows to her hands. She dragged a limp leg under her, balancing to a knee. "Ugh...agh...huhh…" Her legs struggled tiredly to lift her. They'd give halfway, still she'd push. Her labored breathing rose and dropped her scarred and bruised body. Dirt and splinters everywhere. Her half hanging head draped her wiry locks before her dull, desolate eyes. "My…" She moaned incoherently. There was no mistaking it. This was...is...her magic! Prescott had it...the whole time...and she refused to realize it. "Prescott." The strength rose in her voice, shaking between rage and sorrow. She looked to him with a woeful face. "You really took it."

"You sound already resolute on the answer." He hissed. "Doubted me from the start, eh?"

"NEVER!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. She wheezed through gritted teeth, trying her hardest not to weep in front of him. "I spoke up for you! I defended you! From the moment Oswald accused you just because you had my book - I never stopped believing in you!" Oswald was wrong! He's only defending The Doc! Oswald will do anything for that maniac! He was wrong the whole time...until he was deemed right from the start. Leaving Cecelia to feel...absolutely stupid. Tears started to form. "I lost my voice from defending you! I told everyone that it didn't matter if a gag was in the pipes! You would never do something like this!" Never! He would never! "But you did! It's been you...the whole time…!" She sobbed. She shook her head, hanging it in shame. Back in the workshop, in The Gag Factory, every time she's come into contact with him - the proof has thrown itself at her...and she wouldn't acknowledge it. "You stole my magic! You attacked me in my home...LIED TO MY FACE ABOUT IT!"

Somehow, Prescott managed to pull of his most psychotic grin at her despair. He was...PROUD that he fooled her for so long. "I must thank you again for those lessons. They worked wonders." He licked his glove hungrily. "That ritual took weeks to perfect! The guardians were wonderful test subjects!"

"The guardians?!" She cried. He used Wasteland's Guardians as Guinea Pigs? "Are you insane?! You don't know what could happen attacking them?!" Prescott shrugged his hands. He didn't care. Nothing happened because of him. It's certainly not his fault Wasteland tore itself apart. Cecelia was losing her balance. She slapped a palm to her face, unable to remain erect as her world come crashing down around her. "Why?! Why would you…" Her crimson eyes began to glow like rubies, her fangs protruding past her lip. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?" Her shrieking question carried on the wind. "This whole time…! It's been you! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!"

"To ensure you stayed home!" Prescott roared back. He twisted back. A barbaric sweep of his hand sent a crescent wave tearing the ar asunder. Cecelia clawed a fistful of dirt and wrenched her hand up. A spike of bedrock intercepted the wave. A section was ripped away as it dissipated into the abyss behind her. She clapped then slapped a palm to the spike. The rock congealed into wriggling worms. The heads sharp as spikes. Prescott launched into the air. Cecelia guided the worms after him. Prescott beckoned more power. He sliced his other hand down the length of his arm. Green acidic crystal sprinkled onto them, eating them until they were mush in the dirt. "I knew that you would race to the rescue once the quakes hit! Gus would contact Mickey and then Mickey would bring you! I needed to find a way to discourage you from coming!" He showed her a page he tore from the spellbook. Cecelia shrieked horrified. She flipped through the pages. Sure enough, a page was gone. "So I used this ritual and took your magic! And trust me, hiding it from you was no small feat! It wouldn't stop blowing up the containers I trapped it in! Did you know Jamface nearly found it!" Meaning there's a special property suffused to that jar preventing it from escaping. "I PRAYED that FOR ONCE you'd see futility in your intervention and remain put! Instead you plunged head first into danger with no regard for your safety! As usual!" It's a trait he absolutely adored and despised about her.

"I can't believe you. Why would you do this?!" Prescott turned away from her. His reluctance unlocked spare power within her. A ring of energy spanned at her feet, swirling the dust around her. A glow outlined her body, her hair and skirt wafting in the intense aura. "YOU LOOK ME IN THE EYE THIS INSTANT, PRESCOTT!" She folded her spread hands to one another. An ethereal white pentagram traced in the air. Prism crystals launched in a hailstorm. Prescott effortlessly conjured a black hole that swallowed the spell. It opened above her, thrusting it back. Cecelia threw her hands up. A dome shield suppressed the strike, but shattered in seconds. "WHY DID YOU BETRAY US?! BETRAY ME?!"

"BECAUSE YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE LEFT ME NO OTHER CHOICE!" He closed his hand. Cecelia's arms were pinned at her sides. She was ripped off the ground, brought high into the air. "With magic and brush, no one will ever look down their noses at me! I will be the greatest villain in history!" Cecelia struggled in vain against the power holding her. She hates to admit it, but she's at a serious disadvantage. Prescott's emotions - his strong desires - are fueling his powers. She was drawn in closer. Her face as placed in his hands. "And you can be my villainess, Cecelia!" He proposed, stunning her still. "Together, no one will ever disparage us! All our past deeds that were challenged will be oppressed into silence." He pressed his forehead to hers. "And those unwilling to remain so will be easily removed." He whispered with a menacing chuckle. "No more will we be alone."

"Prescott…" No. Not Prescott. This isn't her Prescott. This is another Mad Scientist, "You've lost your mind." Her decree amazed him. Wounded him. His focus wavered. Cecelia was able to free one hand, crushing his gloved wrist in her surprisingly titan like grip. "I wasn't alone! Not anymore! Gus, Ortensia, Daisy, YOU - All of you filled that hole!" Her clenching fist was bathed in a blue flame. She suckerpunched him in the cheek, sending him darting into the Mickey door, cracks webbing in the steel. He collapsed to the ground, picking himself up with blood in his mouth. Cecelia landed n a crouch, approaching him with flame engulfed fists. "You're already a great engineer, a genius of his own caliber, and a boyfriend I know I couldn't have asked for! You have nothing to prove!" She beseeched him. He's never needed to prove anything. Not to her. Not to anyone. "Please, Prescott, don't do this! If you stop now no one will ever know what happened here!"

"But they will know, Cecelia. Because I'll see to it." He ghoulishly vowed, his body swaying as he rose. "Everyone who ever sneered at me, used me for their own gain, or simply scoffed at me will be brought to heel under my thrall!" He swung his gloved hand to his side. A dark, malefic force erupted around him. Flaring ribbons slicing at the night air around him, darkly streams hissing from his eyes. Cecelia was shaken to the core, backing away. "And those who resist, well…" He chuckled, opening his hand. A black flame speckled with a venomous green burned bright, "Cecelia, you're familiar with this villainous dramatage."

"Prescott...please...don't do this!" She begged, inching away. She has to escape. She has to find Oswald, Mickey, and Gus.

"I don't have a choice." And thus his choice was absolute. He aligned the black flame engulfed hand for his now former lover. Cecelia quaked in place, coming undone in the face of the demon the rose before her. On par with that of The Phantom Blot from a year ago. Another false king who would use her powers for his own selfish benefit. And she can't stop him. Not like she is. Black tendrils shot for her. Cecelia coughed hard. A thicket of fog intercepted the tendrils. They tore through to nothingness. Prescott spotted her running deeper into the Floatyard. She wasn't foolish enough to try for the D.E.C. Not that she'll fare any better on his turf.

"GUS! GUS!" Cecelia screamed into her pin. _Please be there._ Cecelia ran up a metal slope, jumping and grabbing onto a bar sticking out from an old sign. She swung all the way around once, vaulting herself onto a protruding ledge. Broken voices and tons of static responded from her pin. She can tell it's Gus, but she can't make out a single word. "GUS! ARE YOU THERE?! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" She leapt to the next ledge, running up a path that took her up and around into a gorge. A black bolt of lightning struck the ground inches behind her. She whimpered at the scorching hole. She looked to the sky. Prescott had arrived, an omen to her quickly approaching end. Cecelia took a leap of faith and went into the gorge. Instead of going up she went down. She flicked her hands out. Clear disks flew and phased into stray toys. A jack in the box, some old fireworks, large sized bouncy balls, and even a few kitchen sinks. The mega sized bouncy balls got in a couple bounces, taking off into the sky. Cecelia thrust a palk. The mega balls burst into tinier balls. Prescott threw his arms up, shielding himself from the harrowing volleys. He dove lower to escape. The kitchen sinks doused him heavily, dragging him down further and extinguishing the flames. The jacks in their boxes came to life, springing into action. The lunged from their boxes, wrapping their tiny arms to Prescott's ankles. And finally the stray fireworks launched, pelting him and exploding on contact. Prescott roared animally, swatting at these childish defenses, at the same time wailing at how they hurt. "GUS! OSWALD! MICKEY! ANYONE PLEASE!" Cecelia continued to try for help. She got a good distance from Prescott. She was almost back at the D.E.C entrance. She was home free. "DAMMIT! She spoke too soon. The hatch was locked! Prescott slapped it with combination locks, key locks, and access ports. She can't open this even if she had all her powers. Not with the time she has. "GUS! I NEED HELP! THE FLOATYARD! OSWALD WAS RIGHT! PRESCOTT HE…" A hand pressed into her back. Cecelia went cold in dismay. Thunder and lightning surged into her body. "AAAHHH!" Her veins pumped the surge along, her beating heart rapidly approaching bursting. Prescott watched in rage, and listened in sorrow as she suffered. After what seemed like minutes, he removed his hand. Cecelia's body went stiff, spasming as the violent buzzing attacked her nerves. The she collapsed, her world going black. Her body smoking. Her pin fell away from her

Prescott spotted the pin on the ground. He was mildly surprised. It wasn't her pin. It was his wrench pin. She must have brought it with her to give back. The little fool. Guess she knows now that he left ti on purpose. He stomped the pin into pieces. There's no turning back now. Gus and the others will be coming. And once they arrive, everything he's dreamed of and more will be his. For now, he has on final mess to clean up before they arrive. He turned Cecelia over, picking up her lifeless body in his arms. Her soft face devoid of color. She looks like she did when she died in his arms. Only...she's so warm. "I'm sorry, Cecelia." He walked to the edge of the abyss, staring into it with heartache. "Like your father," He planted one final kiss to her forehead, "My destiny is to hurt you." With that he slackened his arms. Cecelia rolled from his embrace. Her little hands conveniently stretched as if crying for his aid, the feline sorceress vanished beneath the fog. Prescott waited a while. He did not weep, he did not mourn. He merely waited. Anticipating a last ditch miracle to bring her rising back from oblivion. No such miracle would come. Steeling himself, casting aside his weak feelings of love, he disappeared into The Floatyard. Unknown to him, Cecelia's spellbook was at the D.E.C. hatch.

 **xxx**

Stark silence swallowed the foggy abyss once more. The battle that waged would ring for eons within its mists. Betrayal, heartache, and love lost would tarnish this land for all time. Amid that mist, on a patch of land that the bedrock sprouted who knows how many decades ago, lied the battered form of Cecelia. Her brow twitched. Tiny squeaks came from her pursing lips. Her eyes slowly opened, the bright red hue dull and forlorn. Prescott sought a wondrous, majestic miracle of flashy lights, and heaven's given grace. Instead, the simple miracle of a cat's nine lives and Cecelia's inhuman luck have ensured she'd live to fight another day. Or she would just live. "Hrm...ugh…" A short distance from her...she saw her star pin. Her tiny fingers, weak and shaking, touched to the pin HE had made just for her. "Pres...cott…" The pain that shot to her small arm sent the last of her tears running down her face. Her eyes flared open with a searing rage. Her pupil narrowed to a demonic slit, "You...will...pay!"

 **To Be Continued.**


	19. Lies Are Easier Than The Truth

**Lies Are Easier**

 **Than**

 **The Truth**

 **Sorry I've been gone for so long. Let's get going again.**

 **xxx**

" _Now entering Bog Easy Station!_ " The Train Station PA blared.

The train chugged vehemently on the gradually refurbished tracks, screeching to a halt in the station. The train goers chatted with one another idly, laughing at silly jokes they've heard along the way. "HEY! COME ON! MOVE IT! GO!" The crowd gasped and whined being shoved so rudely aside. They searched for the culprit but were unable to see anyone due to how packed it was. Although, strange pairs of long rabbit ears sprouted and shrank in various points of the crowd. The doors barely had a second to part open. "Move it! Step aside! Our friend is in trouble! Move it!" Oswald ferociously squeezed his way by, forcing himself through, losing his tail and ears along the way. And, a kid wasn't sure, but he's pretty sure Oswald lost his pancreas right there near the tracks. Mickey and Gus wrestled to free themselves of the tightly packed crowd, popping onto their rumps. They picked up Oswald's pieces, and began tearing through the crowds wanting to get on the train just as fiercely. Granted, the trio wanted to apologize to everyone they were trampling on to get through. But time wasn't on their side.

What felt like hours ago - in truth was really minutes - Cecelia contacted them in a frenzy, screaming that she and Prescott were in the Floatyard. Gus knew where that was and was able to guide them to Bog Easy. From there they would need Ian's help getting through Blot Alley - the place Cecelia and Gus recalled Prescott having most of his projects. And where she was likely last seen safe. Anyway, Oswald, Gus, and Mickey went on their own separate adventures searching for clues and answers to what was really going on around Wasteland and who was behind it. Trace evidence of the Mad Doctor's handywork was transparent to them. But Prescott? His work stood out like a lighthouse in the dark. All of the little projects he's been taking on. The work he's been doing behind everyne's back. Nothing more than a ploy for his real plan. What that plan is exactly, they aren't sure. After Cecelia's call, the trio was comfortable accusing Prescott of sabotaging the projectors...and so much more. Prescott was the one who broke the projectors! Prescott was the one shoved that gag into the pipes! And Prescott...Prescott...poor Cecelia. He's the one who ripped her magic right out of her. He's had it the whole time. He's looked her straight in the eye, rekindled her love for him, all the while feigning innocence and preventing her magic from returning. With good reason, it seems. If she arrived with her magic intact, she would have thwarted his plans before they left the drawing board. Now Cecelia's alone with him, and she's in danger. And the longer it takes to find her, the more guilty Oswald feels.

"Oswald, please! Slow down!" Gus begged him. He grabbed hold of the impetuous rabbit before he made that disastrous leap over the pit of alligators through the old tunnel. Oswald wrestled to free himself. He clawed at the floorboards, frothing at the mouth with Cecelia's name on his lips. "Oswald, please! We will be no help to Cecelia if we kill ourselves getting to her!"

"WE WOULDN'T EVEN BE GOING AFTER HER IF IT WASN'T FOR ME!" He screamed, tears running down his face. Mickey felt his insides melt seeing Oswald crying. Gus eased off of him, certain he wasn't going to take off again. He didn't. He just lied there, pounding a fist to the floor. "I did this! I kept accusing Prescott without any real proof! I only did it because I got sick of everyone chastising The Doc."

"In her defense…" Mickey trailed off nervously, rubbing his arm apprehensive of how he was about to rub this in, "Everyone has a reason to not trust him."

"I know that, Mick! You and Cecelia had no reason to trust him more than anyone!" He sobbed. "She had every reason to believe in Prescott! Believe he wouldn't hurt her!" His little arms struggled to push him off the mossy wood, bringing his knees beneath him. "But because I was so eager to believe in the doc...I turned it on him...and caused her to go on this mission by herself."

"You and I both know she would have dashed after him either way." Gus reminded the bunny of who it is that their friend is. "Innocent or Guilty - Cecelia would have demanded answers from Prescott. And he'd be more inclined to speak with her alone than with an audience."

"At this point, who knows what else Prescott would be _willing_ to do." Oswald mumbled miserably. His head can still hardly wrap around it. Why...would Prescott go to these lengths? Why did he hurt his own girlfriend? What does he need her magic for anyway? Can't be as simple as hoping she wouldn't come to Wasteland when danger arose. There has to be more to it. "Well we aren't getting any answers standing around!" Oswald shot to his feet, glancing to his friends with glossy eyed determination. "Cecelia needs our help, and Prescott has a lot of explaining to do!"

"That he does!" Gus snarled. And if he has to pummel that purple, anger prone gremlin to get answers, Gus will see his knuckles bloodied.

Prescott - he was one of the six members of Team Oswald and Mickey to save Wasteland from ultimate destruction at the hands of The Blot. His quick thinking, strategy, technical and engineering prowess, and his unyielding desire to see the one he loved safe made him invaluable to their efforts. He went above and beyond for everyone in Wasteland. Braved the castle when The Blot was infused with magic. A concept no one from Wasteland truly grasped until Cecelia arrived. Not only that, if it weren't for him, Cecelia might never have conquered her fears or broken free of The Blot's hold. That final battle would have swayed far from their favor, and none of them would be present to writhe in the tyranny The Blot would rain down. Her poured his heart and soul into saving his home, his friends, How? How can

The trek for Blot alley was rougher than either of them anticipated. And fraught with more perils from the quake. Now, Bog Easy naturally resembles a place hit by a natural disaster. Then again, aspects of the land already were natural disasters. So...it was fair to say nothing had changed too much. But enough of that! The fraught with perils. Alligators, the busted Beetleworx doors, and whatever blotlings snuck their way in. Neither Mickey, Gus, nor Oswald should be astonished. The closer they get to the truth, the greater the dangers will be. Nothing they can't handle, and nothing they haven't faced before. And it's nothing they won't face to reach Cecelia. After that, they will see to it that Wasteland bounces back from this catastrophe...and pray that they can move past it.

As they regained their courage to leap headlong across the pit of jumping gators, Oswald's remote pinged loudly, tripping him face first into the mossy floor. Gus and Mickey groaned irritably. Another dramatic moment ruined. Oswald, with an annoyed wrinkle in his brow and pieces of wood on his face, pulled out his remote and glare at it. He was getting a message from the Doc again. This lightened his mood a little. The Mad Doctor has been giving them valuable insight as of late. Maybe he can help them again. Mickey and Gus urged him to ignore it. Cecelia needed them right away. Oswald agreed with them, but feared The Mad Doctor might be in equal danger. When it boils right down to it, The Mad Doctor is also one who can pose a threat to Prescott's schemes too. It's only natural that he'd be targeted as well. Gus and Mickey understood, and also understand that they don't have time for The Mad Doctor's singing. Too bad. Oswald pressed the button.

"Doc? You there? What's going on?"

" _ **Hello, my friends I have bad news!**_ " Bad news seems to be their best friend lately. They can weave a tapestry out of it. " _ **My beetleworx have been hacked!**_ " Screams coming from behind them confirmed as much. Beetleworx beetles were coming out of the supposedly broken doors in threes, attacking everyone in their path. " _ **Someone turned them against us, my friends!**_ " Oswald and Mickey narrowed their eyes to one another. How convenient that this happens after Cecelia sends that 911 over the pins. " _ **Watch-your-backs!**_ " The Mad Doctor's ominous call ended, leaving Gus and his animal companions more irked than before.

"Prescott!" Oswald growled, bunching his fingers into fists. "You think he's behind this?!"

"Has to be!" Mickey declared. Though it still gnaws at his insides to say it aloud. Prescott going this far...it's unheard of. Gus shared his friends' contempt, but something in the back of his mind was gnawing at him. Prescott is discovered to be a traitor, and The Mad Doctor becomes a savior. This isn't right. "We aren't going to get any answers standing around!" Mickey unsheathed his brush, squaring off to their metallic foes. "Let's dismantle these guys and get after Cecelia!"

"Right!" Oswald and Gus boomed. Oswald readied his remote, and Gus his wrench. This won't stop them. Nothing will stop them.

 **xxx**

The Mad Doctor set his communicator down to Prescott's work table. He couldn't contain the maniacal, hearty laughter tickling his stomach. What started as an unnerving rumble, exploded into a howling cackle. It was so easy. I was all TOO EASY! Mickey, Oswald, Cecelia, Prescott - all who dwell in Wasteland - they are his puppets on strings. Every single one of them, whether they realize it or not, are moving just as he intends. Step by step the pieces fall into place. A domino for each fool. Once they are arranged, he will topple every single one of them...and watch them plummet into their despair. And it will all be thanks to Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia.

 **xxx**

The first wave of Beetleworx were dealt with swiftly and with minimal damage. Oswald, Mickey, and Gus were just out of breath. They'll get it back on the road to the Floatyard. Oswald repaired the broken door, adjusting the sour mood of the Beetleworx back to their friendly selves. The trio finally made it across the pit of alligators, losing a few hairs on their tails along the way. They opened the massive gates blocking their path, and came to the whirlpool of thinner. A boat with a gaping hole in the hull was being dragged around. Mickey and Oswald timed their jumps, skipping to the boat and riding it to the broken street across the way. Waiting for them was Gus, and Ghost Ian. Both seemed to be having a nice chat while Mickey and Oswald were jumping for their lives across alligator infested thinner waters.

"Must be nice to just fly across with ease!" Oswald fumed, his cheeks bright red. Gus chuckled impishly, bumping fists with Ian. Oswald had steam blowing from his ears, his cheeks puffed angrily.

Mickey pat him on the back, laughing nervously. "Hi, Ian, good to see you again." He waved.

"Likewise, Mick! Great tuh have ya back!" He firmly shook hands. Always a pleasure to see a good friend back. "Hey dare, boss man!" Ian saluted to the still fuming Oswald. "Good tuh see ya! I'm bein' visited by all sorts of pals today."

The trio paused, sharing disconcerted expressions. "Does that mean Cecelia was here?!" Oswald implored him.

"Sure she was. She and Prescott are takin' a nice stroll through The Fort in The Gulch." He cupped the crook of his thumb and index finger to his chin, bouncing his brow foxily.

Oswald lunged into his face, grabbing his ghostly collar, "Cecelia AND Prescott?! Alone!?" His voice broke. His ears spasmed fretfully.

"UGH! Sure! Why wouldn't dey be?!" He trembled, breaking into a cold sweat. He gets that feeling he just said something wrong. Mickey and Oswald looked ready to murder someone. "Ugh, Boss. Is sumthin' happenin'? Yer scarin' me."

Gus edged his companions back to allow the poor man to breathe. "Ian, Cecelia might be in serious danger!" Ian's eyes flew wide in horror. If any part of his was alive he's sure it would be running cold. "Where's the last place you saw her?" He urged him.

"She and Prescott just dealt the kibosh on one of my Slobbers." He motioned a thumb in the direction of the projector behind him. "The kid was sweet tuh not destroy any of 'em." For that, Ian will thank her forever and hold her buddies the to same standard. But he has to know, "What kind of danger is she in?"

Gus exhaled soberly, his shoulders sinking. "We...we don't know. We're hoping none." Oswald and Mickey knit their brows in gratitude for his white lie. Well...not entirely. They are hoping Cecelia is alright.

"Well, given dat she beat back gators and Blotlings on the way in, I wouldn't worry too much." He shrugged.

"She beat back Blots and Gators?" Mickey gasped. _All on her own,_ is what he and the other two were thinking.

"Yep! Left the gators limpin! And she put duh Blots asleep so she can get by. Not sure if they're still sawin' logs." He tickling his chin pensively. He was still mesmerized by what he saw from the Alley to the Fort. "The kid's one tough cookie." He bowed his head in praise. Mickey, Oswald, and Gus gawked in awe. Relaxed smiles loosened their woes considerably from their faces. Still, though, did they fear for her. Ian took pity on them, "But seein' as you're bein' scared witless, I can give ya a shortcut straight to duh Train Dioramas. From dare ya need tuh meet me at The Fort. There's a shortcut right to duh Floatyard."

"Thanks, Ian!" Mickey beamed.

"Anythin' for yous guys." Ian shrank into nothingness. A plasmic stream lead the trio toward the graveyard. Oswald, Mickey, and Gus wasted not a second longer Swearing to reach Cecelia, the three went forth.

 **xxx**

 **Flashback**

 _Prescott was aimlessly flipping the pages, unable to make heads, tails, hairs out of the scribbles. To him they were scribbles. All these drawings of creatures, the Latin phrases that sometimes crossed with Greek phrases to make a spell, and strange stars within circles or circles within stars. He was getting dizzy beyond comprehension trying to decipher it all. And all the warnings. So many warnings. How do sorcerers work with magic so effortlessly with so many potential drawbacks and disasters looming? Like this one here:_ _Poison Oak touch - use this gloving incantation to absorb the effects of Poison Oak and go wild with the itchies on others. Warning: if performed incorrectly, will likely result in poison oak rash across entire body. Anaphylactic shock imminent. See physician if sight is blurred._ _Prescott already felt sick to his stomach just reading this._

" _Now…" He pinched the book's ends, a little scared to be holding it. It might eat his face, "You're sure it's safe to do this indoors. We can always go somewhere...abandoned?"_

 _An impish giggle followed the book being taken from his hands. "We don't need to go anywhere abandoned." An adult bodied Cecelia was seated to his stool, flipping through to a page more comfortable for her squeamish Gremlin. "Magic is as safe as the person using it. You just need to have confidence in your abilities."_

 _Prescott rolled his eyes. Easy for her to say. He hasn't been trained in the art of reality bending since he was in diapers. Still, he won't look a gift horse in the mouth. Cecelia's taking time out of her day to teach him. He'll go along with it so long as the Gag Factory isn't blown up. "So, how does magic work?" He gave in. " I see you do it, but it's too amazing beyond belief."_

" _And that's the trick. You have to believe." She poked his nose._

" _Huh?"_

 _A flourish of her hand brought a chair under Prescott, bringing him in close. She put a pen and notepad in his hands. He'll need to take notes. "In order for any true phenomena to be made real, belief is a strong key factor." Prescott jotted it down, but wasn't sure what it meant. "The emotion behind that belief is the ignition. And the passion is the spark that radiates into the wonder you've witnessed." Bringing a dead garden back to life, chasing back Ghoul Blots with ethereal-angelic pin missiles, consuming an attic in a blaze. Prescott is was gradually grasping it. All of those spells were possible because Cecelia has strong feelings for her craft. And she has a wonderful imagination. He pondered if there is a king spot for Sorcerers. Cecelia would be queen. "Shall I demonstrate?" Prescott bobbed his head He thought she'd never ask. Cecelia took a mirror. She stirred a finger on the reflected surface. "Mirror, mirror, in my hand, multiply at my command." The glass vibrated with a high pitched hum. A glow outlined the mirror. "Morpho change-o, let us see all our flights of fantasy." She ran a hand across the liquid glass, casting five shimmering mirrors circling around the room._

 _Mesmerized by the mirrors, Prescott encroached to one of them, arching his brow inquisitively. He was taken aback, laughing especially. In one of the mirrors he was a king. In another he was a brilliant engineer. One of them surprised Cecelia, as it was a Chef Prescott. He looked good in a big poofy hat. The last two were the Gag Factory being changed into a science lab, and him lording over a shrine of...pastries. No surprise there. Prescott hates the Gag Factory, and he loves pastries._

" _Splendid! Absolutely magnificent!" He swooned dreamily. Slyly did he glance at Cecelia in the corner of the mirror, transfixed in her brilliance. 'This is not but a taste of what she can do.'_

 _Cecelia blushed with a dreamy gaze, giggling uncontrollably at how adorable Prescott was. A child experiencing a new wonder. A scientist studying an occurrence beyond his realm of understanding. She loved seeing that twinkle in his eye. Makes her vest faith that there are still wonders to behold in this life. "Now you try one." She urged him. Prescott bobbed his head, managing to pull himself from the mirrors. Cecelia flipped through her spellbook to the novice spells. She tapped one of her favorites. "Here's an easy one. Levitation." She let him read the passage as she delved deeper with cliff notes. "From objects to yourself, you can make anything float. Just don't use it on houses. It goes against the Dorothy Claus." One twister that rips a house clean off its plot and suddenly it's wrong to put a house in the sky. Castle's are fine. No homes, though. Not even an apartment. "The way I found this spell easy to master is I needed to envision what makes me float. Or just basically make me feel weightless, free from the bonds of gravity."_

 _Prescott absorbed her words like a sponge, while at the same time taking in every aspect of the spell's instructions. The theory was simple. It's the practice that ached his nerves. "What was that?"_

" _One of my friends from the human realm took me hang gliding. It was terrifying at first." Her stomach is still flipping. If her friend wasn't with her she would have plummeted to her doom. But, enough of that, back to her lessons. "Then as I let the wind fill beneath my wings, felt its gentle touch guide me across the clouds," She wrapped her arms to herself, enamoured n the memory. Glittering lights coated her body, lifting her off the ground, "It was the most magical moment, and I felt absolutely free." She was rotating upside down. Hearts bubbled from her cherry red blush. They had wings of their own._

 _Prescott laughed and tied her to ground level by the ankles. It'd be bad if she floated away. "So your recommendation is to think on what makes me feel free, and then perform this spell?"_

" _That's the gist." She touched ground, freeing her ankle. "Give it a whirl. OH! But make sure you enunciate and say each word with conviction! Otherwise there's a chance the spell might backfire or just not work." Prescott was apprehensive by how a floating spell can backfire. Could he lift himself to the moon? Pry the whole town off its roots? Or maybe he could accidentally destroy gravity! "And no, it is impossible to destroy gravity!" Prescott screamed in disbelief. She's a mind reader._

 _Prescott steeled his nerves with a quick breath. With a knit brow he read the spell until he was certain it was engraved in his head. He scanned the room for what would make the perfect test subject. A set of chattering teeth. Perfect. And if they happen to break, well, no skin off his teeth. Prescott re-read the spell again. "That which goes down, may it rise back up. E-ergo...sur-ge!"_ _ **(Rise now)**_ _He spoke rather stiffly. A pounding in his chest was shaking his voice. "No-no!" He shook it off. That was all wrong. He needed to try again._

" _Don't just utter the spell." Cecelia educated. She cupped her hands near her chest, sighing in bliss. "Let the magic flow through you. Let it fill you."_

" _Let it flow...and fill me?"_

" _That's right. You're too closed off. In order to effectively cast a spell, letting yourself go - opening yourself to the power - is what allows it to unleash itself."_

" _Being closed off." That's a sensation he's familiar with. He keeps himself in a barrier on a daily basis. Except when it comes to Cecelia. He feels that he can let it down for a time. 'Why would I want to put it back up in the first place with her?' He asked himself. He can surmise the same answer lies within Cecelia's reason to close herself off. Showing one's true self is terrifying. What others will think or how they will react can bring hardened veterans to crumbling. "Alright...open myself." He has to feel the spell he casts, all the while permitting himself to give in to the power in a way. Prescott closed his eyes. He centered himself. Cecelia watched with a smile on her face. Goose bumps crawled to her skin. The air was electrifying. "That which goes down, may it rise back up." There was a distortion to his voice the punctured the thin veil separating this realm from the next. An echo reverberated to the core of Cecelia's being. He took one more breath, finishing the spell. His eyes flared open, a gleam tracing his irises. "Ergo surge!" He flexed his fingers. A glow emitted from the glove. The chattering teeth clattered on the desk. Incidentally, those teeth and the bouncing webbed feet beside it were grasped in the same glow. Prescott readied himself, he slowly lifted the arm. The teeth and feet came right off. Prescott beamed victoriously. He flourished his hand, looping it around his head. The feet and teeth danced in a graceful stream, circling him and being sent back to the table. The spell wore off after a few seconds. But the buzzing in his limbs, the weightlessness, the all around amazing feeling that reinvigorated his soul. He loved this feeling. He wanted it to last. "I...I did it. I DID IT!" He cheered._

 _Cecelia clapped her hands exuberantly, jumping up and down. "Not bad! Not bad at all! And on your first try!"_

" _I can't believe I did it!" He lifted Cecelia under her arms, spinning her around. "Cecelia, you're a miracle worker! That was amazing!"_

" _Don't I know it!" She threw herself into his arms, smothering him in a congratulatory hug. "You were absolutely brilliant, Prescott. Great work!" She blushed adoringly. "And get this - magic and science together will expedite your work and unlock new potentials."_

" _It will?!" He gasped in disbelief. "That's not possible."_

" _It's really not. It's known as Alchemy - a combination of magic and science." Prescott rolled Alchemy off his tongue. He liked the way it sounded. It was powerful, inspiring, dangerous, and revolutionary. "I think this will be a good fit for you."_

" _I don't doubt it." He gently took her hand in his and lightly pecked a kiss to the top of her palm. "And I shall return the favor in kind. Will you let me teach you the marvels of Science, Cecelia?" Cecelia was completely caught off guard by the kiss, going supremely red. With glazed eyes she nodded her head, smiling adorably. She'd be honored to learn science from him._

 _(I was so proud of him. It felt as though I had a protege in magic - someone I can relate to and share my secrets with. It was a remarkable moment for me. And being offered a chance to learn science from him was everything I could hope for. I'd be able to relate to him on an all new level. We'd grow closer. I found myself falling in love with you all over again. What a fool I've been.)_

 **Flashback End**

 **xxx**

In spite of the splitting pain - ignoring every fiber that begged her to lie where she was - Cecelia, through a great trial, managed to flip herself onto her back. A breath of air ignited her lungs. Her body felt like it was being pricked by thousands of searing needles. Every limb was sore, heavy, and mounted to the patch of dirt protruding from far down the cliffside ledge. The scars and bruises marring her fair skin stung and throbbed, battering her like a slab of meat that was tenderized beyond recognition. Her head was spinning round and round, her spine pulsating. Her nails were dug into the dirt, anchoring her limp form so it would not fall deeper into the fog filled abyss. Her eyes remained squeezed shut. Refusing was she to open them to the horrific world she allowed herself to fall so far into. Because, regardless of what her body was enduring and striving the overcome, that pain was so mild. It was nothing. Nothing compared to the betrayal that sent her plummeting to what should have been her demise. Instead was a cruel act of mercy by fate that she continue to breathe. And how she would be forced to wallow in the misery that...her own magic...in the hands of her boyfriend...was what put her here in the first place. Worst still...he was the one that stole it from the get go, and it was due to her tutelage all that time ago that he was able to best her.

"I taught you magic…" She rasped venomously, "You taught me science…" An equal exchange of what are both hobbies and lifestyles. They were the thread that wove them closer together, kept one another in each other's embrace, and ensured there wouldn't be a gap that they would not be able to overcome. "We each...wanted to...understand the other's worlds." She coughed up. She wanted to see his world through those goggles, comprehend how it is science makes his world turn. In turn, she would let him experience the wonder of magic, and how the phenomena lifted her spirits. Salty tears trickling from her eyes stung the cuts. Unbearable pressure welled in her chest. She clawed at it, not care that was breaking her skin. She wanted to rip out the organ that sent the pain pulsing through her veins. Take it, crush it, and let it rot. "You used my teachings to shatter mine. To hurt others to sate your own lust for power. You turned what magic stood for to me into something evil. Just like The Blot." She draped an arm over her eyes. Her sobs harder to hold in. "For that, Prescott…" She took in a heave of a breath. Her ruby eyes flared open, enflamed daggers shooting to the same night sky she knew Prescott would be under, preying he would be torn to shreds, "I WILL HATE YOU TILL THE END OF TIME!"

 **xxx**

A very foreboding chill shot down Prescott's back like lightning from the sky. His limbs froze in place, his hands stopped on a cylinder he attached to his latest creation. Hs head bowed so low that his neck was on the verge of snapping. The weight bearing down on his head was enough to shatter the skull should it fall. No less - or great enough - than what he deserves for what he has done. "Cecelia...please...forgive me." He begged. Though he knows full well she will never forgive him. From this point onward, he will be The Blot in her eyes.

 **xxx**

Ian's shortcut let Oswald and the others out at Club 13 - Petetronic's current hangout and place of business. Needless to say, the more moralized Pete was unnerved by the appearance of so many hero types in such a short amount of time. He regaled Ian and company of the all out war zone his club was turned into when Cecelia came passing by. Don't get him wrong. He's grateful to Cecelia. Thanks to her he and his club escaped that mess with barely a scrape. Blotlings dared to cross the guardian pool were sent packing in the blink of an eye.

Oswald, Mickey, and Gus reveled in his tale, taking heart that their friend is giving enemies the what-for. Which only made them feel a little guilty. Since losing her magic, the three have been having doubts if Cecelia can defend herself if she was on her own. The egg is on their face. She's just fine on her own. A fire in their hearts burned at their doubts, reinvigorating their hope that Cecelia will be right as rain when they find her. She's survived the worst that both her world and Wasteland have had to offer. She won't be downed by this.

Petetronic demanded to know why Oswald and Mickey were in such a rush, and literally just came out of a sewer hole, in order to be at his humble club. Ian spoke on their behalf, given he has the better relationship with Petetronic after all this time, and he really didn't want to mention to secret passage from the graveyard. He explained everything he knew so far while Mickey and the others lazed around to catch their breath. They talked a little too. Mickey was really curious about Blot Alley.

"This place wasn't here the last time I visited, was it?" Mickey pondered. He thinks he'd remember a place that supposed to be a home for Blotlings.

"It's been here," Gus assured him, "But you weren't given the chance to visit before the Blotlings took up residence." To his great contempt. Don't get him wrong. Gus is proud that Ian sought to make a home for the rampant Blotlings. Seeing as their master wasn't around to keep them in line. Even Daisy and Clarabelle have a few Spatters living with them.

Mickey bobbed his head. That made sense. "But why bring the here?"

"Well, you see…" Oswald took over, "After The Blot went caput, the Blotlings started flooding Meanstreet. We didn't have anywhere else to put 'em, so we brought 'em here." He gestured to the Alley. Needless to say, a few SPatters went moseying by.

Mickey kept his hand near his brush. "And Ian's just been looking after them?"

"He says they can be taught to be nice." Oswald continued. "And since we couldn't get rid of them all, we didn't really have a choice and tried to learn to live with them." The edge in his voice told Mickey he'd rather do anything else other than live with Blotlings. Not that he blamed him. The way one of the Spatters was eyeballing Mickey, he saw that they still had a bit of a grudge. "I'm sure you've seen the Spatters living with some friends back in OsTown." It's one of the first couple of things he noticed. "We're trying to make the best of it, but not all of us are...you know."

"Yeah, I do." Mickey moaned. It's exactly how he feels with The Mad Doctor. It doesn't matter that he's helping them now, or that he's trying to rebuild Wasteland from the ground up. What he did...bringing the whole land to their knees with their worst nightmares...Mickey can never forgive him. Never.

"Alright, Fellas, we're set!" Ian clapped his hands. Oswald, Mickey, and Gus parted slightly, welcoming Ian into their circle. Petetronic was trudging back into his club. "Petetronic's gonna let ya into duh dioramas, den it's a hop skip and a jump to duh Floatyard."

"Through the fort, you mean?" Gus remarked skeptically. Mickey got a strange chill. He gets the strong irk that there are a whole mess of Blotlings in the Fort too. "And you are right, Mickey. There are Blots in The Fort." Mickey's ears fell right off in his shock. Gus is a mind reader.

"Yes, yes, there are Blots in dah Fort, but in their defense, dey found it first!" Ian drew that line in the sand and cemented it. Oswald, having to take a leader's standpoint, knew he was telling the truth. No one's been to The Fort since the Thinner Disaster. For every good reason, The Fort was thought to be lost. Oswald even declared it so. Therefore, whoever moved in after the Thinner receded would be the owner of it. No matter who it is. "Anyway, once you get through the dioramas, meet me at the entrance to duh Fort and I'll help ya from there."

"Thank you...for everything, Ian." Oswald said with such a softness that Ian's chest thumped. He raised a finger to comment on how unlike him that was. Gus and Mickey silently shook their heads at him, warning him not to ask. Ian gawked a second longer, noticing they were all acting weird.

"Alright. Den let's get moving!" Ian wouldn't waste another second. He showed them into the diorama, and off they went.

 **xxx**

 **Flashback**

 _Prescott slipped a glove similar to his to Cecelia's hand. He fixed the straps, adjusted the fitting to be comfortable one her more slender wrist. A good thing she was in her adult form. Her child form would have made the fitting a little more difficult. He took a step back, wanting a better perspective on the beautiful work of art. And the glove. Cecelia was studying it like an alien life form, curling and uncurling her fingers to get used to it. Her pristine red orbs glowing at the fine fibers woven into the forearm and the rubber insulated metals that allow her to comfortably flex her arm without stiffness. The silver coils captured her in a trance. She liked how unblemished it was, and how it popped in the black hue. He sort of laughed when she had to focus to see her eyes in the red conductor jewel. Hard to see red in red. All in all. She was taking to it nicely. Prescott had to admit, it looked good on her. If he can forgive himself for the pun - it fit her like a glove._

" _Time for class to begin." Prescott cleared his throat the way a teacher would to get his students' attention. Cecelia stopped her ogling and gave him her undivided attention. "You've seen me use my glove plenty of times. This one works just the same." Prescott began educating her. He brought her attention to the red bulb on the top of the palm. Splitting from it was a silver lining that coiled up the arm. He then referred to the chalkboard behind him. "That bulb allows for feasible and efficient conduction. It can make possible what the glove alone can't do. Meaning it isn't unlike how you will use your book to perform certain spells, or how you told me wizards rely on wands." Cecelia bobbed her head. That made perfect sense to her. "The glove relies on anti gravity technology. Sort of like a built in Floating Spell, but with a little more oomph and leeway than the spell." She remembers from last year how Prescott was lifting the Petes, Splahdooshes, and even anchors all at once. He wasn't exaggerating when he said it had more oomph. "It can also be used to deal focused blasts, or send pulses that deal quite the punch." He flexed his arm, bouncing his brow charmingly. He is the Adonis of pulses and blasts, and a God overall with that glove on. Cecelia rolled her eyes. He loves to inflate his ego. "Now, that isn't to say this glove does not have practical uses as well." He guided her to his work table. Tightly sealed beakers and jars, each with a different colored liquid filled halfway inside. "There are times where I have air other other source element volatile chemicals that will either spoil or explode if exposed. So I developed a method with the glove to help me stir them until they become more malleable." That was really tainting her nerves of steel. She's pretty sure she can reach the door before an explosion, or something worse, happens. Prescott took her by the wrist, practically sensing she was going to run, and led her close to the desk. "You get the honor of doing the samething."_

" _I…" She broke into shivers, unnerved by both the glove and these volatile chemicals. "I'm not sure about this."_

" _Don't worry. I'll be right here." He flew up, wrapping his arms to her shoulders. The tension he felt in her shoulders dissipated as her skin heated. He smirked at her reddening ears. He can only imagine how red her face was. "Just take your time, relax, and follow my lead." He tenderly coaxed. She swallowed a massive lump, bobbing her head rapidly. She prayed hard that he couldn't feel her heart pounding. "Alright, just like with your floating spell, it's a simple flow of the wrist. Turn that dial hear to about...4%. That should work." Cecelia found the dial, shakily setting it. She yelp at the muffled vibration massaging into her hand. "It's alright. It's a shock at first." He calmed her. A jiggling glow emanated from the glove, lighting up the awe in her eyes. "Now, depending on the force and how you move you will determine what features you activate." This was more of a warning than a lesson. "To lift an object, or - in this case - to stir or moved something, requires you to fluidly flourish your wrist. An enunciation of movement, in a way."_

" _O-okay...I can do that." Her neck tensed. Her arm was stiff as an uncooked noodle. She practiced on a stray pair of wind up feet. A fluid motion of her wrist...she jerked it too hard in the execution. She sent the feet flying and they smashed on the wall. She and Prescott winced. Her heart skipped a beat. "Oops."_

" _Try again...but gently this time." He slid his hand down her arm, taking her wrist. His hot breath was in her ear, bringing tiny bumps to her neck. "Now up and swish…" She let him guide her. A set of chatter teeth came right off the desk. Cecelia was becoming excited. Prescott let her go and watched her play with it in mid air, and set it back to a stack of books. "Good. Now to the chemicals." The part she wasn't looking forward to. She took a breath, mustering whatever courage she had, and hovered her hand to it. She started shaking. The idea of blowing them up was terrifying. Her eyes darted between the glove and the beaker. "Don't be afraid of the tool. It won't hurt you if you don't let it."_

" _I don't know. I'm better with bowls and muddlers."_

" _Think of this like that." He insisted. He moved her hand in a steady motion. Back and forth, side to side, giving her a feel for the motions. "Slowly stir the glove, move with the flow of the liquid." The yellow liquid was rippling slightly. Little lifts and jumps brought bubbles to the surface. It's just the chemicals settling as they are moved, Prescott reassured her. Before she knew it, the liquid was moving in churning taffy. "Like with magic, do not force it. Let it flow naturally. That's it." It's like she was bending the chemical to her whim. It was amazing. She even gave it a little stir with her finger. This was pretty fun. "You're a natural at this."_

" _I just have an amazing teacher." She blushed, kissing him on the cheek._

" _You forget handsome, dashing, debonaire-" He posed for each word._

" _Pigheaded, self absorbent, no modesty." She listed off on her fingers._

 _A vein clenched in his brow. "Oh that's it!" He went low and dug his fingers into her sides, wiggling them without mercy._

" _HA-HA-HA! STOP IT! I'M TICKLISH!" She was able to stop stirring, but Prescott was buzzing around her, attacking her sides._

 _Prescott slipped up to her head, his fingers digging in her ear. "Right here, right?!" He wiggled them inside and out._

" _BWAH-AHA…" She flew into hysteria. She reached up to stop him, then he attacked her armpits. She tried her hardest to get him to stop, only succeeding him gaining more ground. She couldn't take anymore and fell to the floor. Prescott jumped onto her hips and tickled her stomach._

" _Apologize and I stop!" He warned her. He pinned both hands above her head with one hand, really getting at her ribs._

" _ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! I'M SORRY!"_

" _Good girl." He finally stopped, releasing her hands. She lied there spread eagle, panting heavily for breath. Prescott lied on her, putting his elbows in her stomach to admire her with his cheeks in his knuckles. Cecelia glared at him with flushed cheeks. "Have I mentioned how cute you are when you're at my mercy?"_

" _You know I could kill you with a breath!"_

" _You could." He slid up more, pecking a kiss to her forehead. "But you won't. You love me too much."_

" _Who told you that lie?"_

" _You." He scratched behind her ear. "On many occasions." Cecelia was too exhausted to resist the sensation. She started purring like a cat. He can only dream of how she'd purr if she had her cat ears again. "Does the little kitty like that? Huh?" He cooed teasingly. He went down and under her chin, scratching her neck. She was mewling in ecstasy, writhing under him. "Say you love me. Say it." He crooned, scratching her behind both ears. "Come on."_

" _I…" Oh she was going to hate him for this. He makes her so weak. She can't help but obey him. And he was going to relish in her defeat. "I love you." She moaned breathlessly._

 _He smirked in triumph. "I love you too." He leaned in close, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss._

 _(No you don't. No you didn't! YOU NEVER DID! YOU NEVER LOVED ME, YOU SICK BASTARD!)_

 **Flashback End**

 **xxx**

Ragged, shaking fingers grasped hold of a solid rock. Cecelia's numbing arms struggled to a burn to pull her bludgeoned body yet another foot from the ledge she was sent to. She shoved her foot to the holds. Searing pain burned up her toes. The bones in her legs ached to the marrow, crippling under the strain. Her foot would slip, sending her down a ways. She'd claw the wall, shaving her skin, only to ignoring the harrowing pain to climb again. Her heart pumped itself to bursting as she ignored her muscles' plight to cease her foolish climbing, to remain where she was until she was rescued. Or until her body was healed. She will not. She would not. She refuses to be the damsel left in distress from her lover's folly. To have to look Oswald in the eye as she acquiesces to what he knew to be true the whole time. Just thinking about his smug face...how he will revel in the fact that his friend - the first villain to threaten Wasteland - turned out to be the truly reformed one. How she sat there, victimized by her blind love for Prescott, constantly turning up her nose at the evidence that threw itself at her feet since day one.

A rage burned in her veins. It reinvigorated her frailing muscles. Each split of pain made her strive to climb higher and higher. A malice within her iced heart prayed that Prescott would be waiting so she could put a hole in his chest and head. Her imagination was rampant with delicious punishments she would inflict upon him. It gave her the strength to persevere, to reach that ledge and show she has not been felled by this false sorcerer. Even though...deep down...she was feeling broken. Even so, by some strange miracle, a second wind she pulled from nowhere, she was halfway up the cliffside. The ledge above impossible to see in the dense fog, but she was not deterred. She wasn't going to quit. She'll never quit. Not until...she makes him pay.

"Damn you...to Hell...Prescott!" She frothed at the mouth. Her pupils narrowed to the tiniest slits. The rumbling thunder in the sky reverberated to the sheen in her eye. "You never loved me! You're just like that bastard father of mine! Everything out of your mouth is a lie!" Nothing but lies. There will always be lies. No one truly loves anyone but themselves. That whole concept of giving your truest heart to another is nothing but a fairytale. "All you cared about was yourself! Your wounds, your aches, your pride! Bettering your own means, reaching your own goals, solving your own problems! None of it was extended to me!" A rock keeled under her foot. She slipped an inch, but saved herself by grabbing another rock. Her stomach scratched on the cliff, her muscles radiating in pain. Scarcely did it compare to the anguish tearing her to ribbons. "I hate you, Prescott!" She snarled. The top of the cliff was an arm's length away. One jump and it was hers. She bent her knees, secured her hands and feet, and breathed heavily to minimize the pain rippling in her. "I...HATE...YOU…!" all rocks at her hands and feet broke from the wall, her fingers brushing off the ledge in her desperate lunge. A horrific weightlessness coiled her body, cold air at her back as the world tilted on its axis. The ledge was growing away from her. The fog would swallow her up again. This time, as she plummets, she knew she would not come back. "I...hate...you…" Twinkling tears were carried by the chilling breeze.

 **To be continued**


	20. Making Our Way

**Making Our Way**

 **Moving on.**

 **This will be more like a giant summary of the dioramas.**

 **xxx**

"Whoa…" Mickey was awestruck by the train tunnel running under Wasteland. He wasn't what to expect, but he sure wasn't expecting this. A whole train tunnel in working condition. The black pit under the the electrified tracks didn't even unnerve him as he was too amazed. He would even forget that they are on a time clock to find their friend and her soon to be dead ex-boyfriend. Well...he wasn't that fascinated. Gus motioned him and Oswald to the terminal that would open the large doors into the diorama. "Where are we?" Mickey asked in amazement.

"This is the entrance to the train dioramas!" Gus was pleased to announce. "Prescott built the dioramas after the thinner receded to celebrate yours and Cecelia's victories over The Blot and his evil minions." Gus spoke with a zeal that tells he had a hand in the diorama making it off ground. Prescott was the genius behind it all though. He, like others, wanted a distraction from the wanton destruction, and a means of recovering from the trials they suffered. Building this diorama was his distraction and recovery. For those who would partake, it would soon be theirs.

Mickey felt strangely warmed by this. He glanced to the doors, enamoured with a flowing imagination of what lied beyond. Prescott isn't know for not putting his all into his projects. The dedication to the entrance hall was impressive enough. To think, Cecelia had a chance to wander through here before them. To witness, experience, and revel in what Prescott's genius was truly capable of. How did she feel, he wondered? What were her thoughts? Was she happy? Did she feel honored? Or did it spoil in her mouth because of what Prescott is doing?

Oswald was wandering about, searching for a way to open the door. The diorama hall was cool and all, but their friend was in danger. There had to be a way in. Unfortunately, Ian didn't give them that info before he took off. He got an emergency Boo-Alert from Gabriel. Tedworth was on a tear looking for that teddy bear of his and causing a ruckus. He asked Oswald and the others to go through the diorama and he would meet up with them. Would have been nice if they knew how to get through.

"W-W-WELCOME...F-F-FR-FRIENDS!" An autonomous voice blurted from a metal hole in the ground. Oswald tilted his head, stalking over to it. A lot of static was coming out of it, electrical streams flying rampantly. The streams traveled his ears to his cottontail, frizzing it out wildly. "I-I-I…" Before Oswald could move, a metal man in a train conductor's costume sprouted out, knocking him for a loop, "I'm the Au-a-u-Automatic Branch Engineer! O-O-O-R Abe to-to-to-DOH!" Static was profusely falling from the poor metal man's mouth. The harder he tried to fight to get a single word out, the worse it got. His head spun all the way around, the wires only serving the get more crossed than what they are now. Abe's mouth was moving at some point, but not a sound was uttered.

"Looks like the quake did considerable damage to the dioramas." Gus deduced, feeling rather sorry for Abe. "And now the whole system is unstable." Unstable was putting it mildly. By the sounds of it, the whole place was coming unhinged from the quake. Prescott clearly poured his soul into making this ride, only to have it all come undone in a violent shake. It's no wonder it wasn't operational and ready for the public yet. Gus checked the level of damage on the terminal. It wasn't too severe. In fact, he believes he and his friends can fix it, and poor Abe, up in a jiffy. "It would be wonderful to have the dioramas up and running again. Why don't we fix it as we go?" He understand they are in a hurry, but fixing up the place might work for them instead of against them.

"Sounds like a good idea." Oswald had to admit. Regardless of who made it and for whatever purpose, or if they are in a rush, it's part of Wasteland and he is the leader. It's his duty to see this attraction restored and possibly ready in the near future for use. "We might even learn what Prescott was doing down here." Mickey bobbed his head in agreement. He and Gus were happy to oblige. What better way to understand a genius gone rogue than to tour and see his work. And, if they are being completely honest, the trio really wants to get a sneak peek of what would have surely brought in hundreds from miles around. Prescott may be a grump, but he's a grump who can literally build a satellite out of foil, toothpicks, and an old radio, and get the best signal. Better than what Copernicus gets in his Observation Tower.

The first diorama shocked Mickey to the core with a good dose of nostalgia. Nearly knocked him off his feet. The Small World Clock Tower. One of the first dangers Mickey encountered when he first arrived in Wasteland two years ago. Not as big, or as scary, as the real tower, but the chills running down Mickey's spine put him on the verge of making a break for it. What really made his head flip in every direction was the cutout of Mickey running side to side on a track it was placed on. With its own little brush it was racing side to side in an effort to avoid being crushed by the titanic autonomous fists of the clock tower. Oswald confessed out of guilt that he might have antagonized the clock tower to attack him. Out of jealousy and disdain for Mickey and his popularity that caused him to be forgotten. Mickey remembers using paint for this battle. Mostly out of pure habit and because he didn't want to destroy it. Gus was the one to teach him that not only was thinner causing that which used to be amicable to become hostile, but also that paint can make Blotlings and those Thinner afflicted to become friendly. Given there was a giant thinner pool under the clock tower, this thing wasn't in a very friendly place.

The malfunctioning arms sputtering and getting locked in place just trying to rise and fall. Oswald saw the access ports at the end of the knuckles and got to work. A wriggling stream linked to the ports. The bulbs on the tops took longer to light up due to how large the arms were. They took more power, and probably haven't seen regular maintenance since the quake. Nevertheless, the arms came back online and were pounding away at the fake Mickey in a steady rhythm. The real Mickey painted life back into the thinned out Toon, bringing a cerulean life to the guardian pool below. Mickey and Oswald proceeded to climb up to the clock face. The arm that the face was attached to was stuck in the outward position. This took a little finesse. Mickey and Oswald had to kick at a couple of gear in unison to crank it back into place. Once the face was back where it belonged, the diorama came alive with music and the singing figurines popped in and out from their little doors. Abe was overjoyed to have the diorama back up and running. He was starting to feel a little better. Though his stutter was still there. That would go away with time. Onto the next diorama. Before that, Gus noticed security footage of the next area. There was a beetleworx replicator there. An odd place for one. Prescott wouldn't go for that in one of his attractions. He a stickler for authenticity. Did the Doctor add it there without his knowledge?

Abe was waiting for them with a new spring in his mechanical step. He was definitely a lot more chipper. And Oswald could be seeing things, but there wasn't as much static coming out of him as before. Though that stutter was still there. Again, not much they can do about it until they fix the dioramas. "G-G-Gee, Fellas, I can't thank ya enough for fixing up th-th-the diorama. I'm feeling better…" A surge of static rolled his voice, hitching his speech box, "Well, mostly better, already." Mickey, Oswald, and Gus were glad to hear it. "If you're looking for Prescott, he came by here a while ago looking for parts. Not sure why."

The trio exchanged serious glances. "Was a girl named Cecelia with him?"

"Cecelia?" Abe tapped his chin. That's a familiar name that rolls off the tongue. "Why...I've heard of her, but I've never met her. Haven't seen her either."

"You haven't? Are you sure?" Mickey pressed. Abe isn't in his right thought process. He might have seen her, but doesn't remember. "She would have come through here earlier. She was with Prescott." A fact that knotted his stomach.

"If she was, I-I-I didn't see-ee-ee her. Prescott was the only one I saw." Gus hummed under his breath in deep thought. Cecelia was clearly chasing after Prescott. Ian said he saw them together. And he confirmed she came through the diorama. When did they meet up? And how did Abe not see her? "I know one of the dioramas is about her. Prescott took his time on that one. Fussed over her look and design for days." The trio wasn't able to resist the lovey-dovey grins creeping their cheeks up. Prescott put extra detail into Cecelia. They can't wait to see that. "Prescott went on about her. Sounds like he was loopy with love." Abe doesn't know the half of it. "Maybe the cameras caught her. I'll check for ya." He guaranteed them. "In the meantime…" Static choked him up for a few seconds, "The next diorama is based on the Mad Doctor Battle in his attic." Mickey remembers that one. Wasn't anymore fun than the other battles. As he and the others meandered on their way, Abe said out loud to himself, "I'm not really sure what Prescott was doing down here. I'll have to see if the Spirit of Wasteland knows." Sounds like Prescott kept secrets even from his own creations.

The Attic Diorama was spot on. Well, not counting that it wasn't in cinders by the time Cecelia got through with it. Felt like being back in the real thing. Another chill Mickey didn't need. On both occasions. To think it was in this place where he learned the true dangers The Blot and Mad Doctor posed to Wasteland, and just how frightening and miraculous Cecelia's powers can be. Aside from all the turmoil, Mickey felt he grew from the couple of times he's been dragged there. Especially when he fought off his nightmares to see the land prosper. But he doesn't remember a replicator being there. Must have been added later on for posterity. The replicators are a Mad Doctor invention. It even had a little Beetleworx trying to get inside. However, the door wasn't working right. It was stuttering open and shut. The cutout was supposed to be able to enter, but was being bounced back. Mickey saw the issue from a mile away. The ruby eye in the door was gone. Thinned out, it looked like. He went over and painted it in, getting it running nice and smooth again. The next thing Oswald noticed was a set of train tracks out of alignment. It was a replica of that train the Mad Doc had running around the attic. Not sure what it was for. Made the attic look like a giant play area for kids. Oswald got in there and pushed it back into place. The train was off and going in circles. Gus was in the rafters to keep a bird's eye view out for any other malfunctioning attractions in the diorama. He called out to Mickey when he saw missing piping in the high walls. Oswald flew him up there so he could paint them.

Fixing the dioramas was easy enough. Mickey and Oswald felt like mechanics themselves. As they were about to head to the next diorama, a Shocker Beetleworx burst inside, roaring animally. Abe told them the access tubes were ready to send them up, but they had to deal with the Beetleworx first. Mickey and Oswald became enraged. They didn't have time for this mess. Gus slapped his wrench to his palm, growling rapidly at the mechanical monstrosity standing between them and getting to their friend. The Shocker came at Mickey and Oswald in a fury, slamming his fists down hard. Mickey and Oswald backflipped to safety, escaping the fate of the splintered wooden floorboards. Gus came soaring in at high speeds, batting the side of the Shocker's head with all of his strength. He actually managed to knock the Beetleworx on the ground. He didn't let up. He bashed and pounding away at his head, the arms, the sides, everywhere he could get to before it could regain his balance. The Shocker shot a hand out, crush Gus and his rampantly swinging arms in a vice grip. Gus struggled to no avail. Mickey and Oswald came in without hesitation and struck him with a focused blast of paint and thinner, slamming him into a wall. Oswald doused him in electricity, the spasming body confined in place. Mickey ran up the collapsed Beetleworx, bouncing his full weight onto the button on his head. The Shocker's hull came undone. Mickey emptied thinner into the beetleworx, taking him offline for good.

Before anymore surprises appeared, Mickey and Oswald got into the access tubes to get to the next diorama. Footage of the next area showed storage areas hidden within the diorama. Neither Gus nor Abe knew what they could be used for. The further in they go, the more questions are raised as to what Prescott has been up to on his spare time. On a brighter note, Abe was feeling like a million bucks with all the repairs. His stutter was going away too. Just one more diorama and Abe will be all fixed, and they'll be one step closer to stopping Prescott. Abe did, however, regret to inform them that while he found some video of Cecelia, the damages to his system made them almost impossible to see. He promised to have it cleaned up by the time they finished with the fourth and last diorama. One away. Not that they were too disappointed by being in the third diorama. It was Oswald and Mickey's favorite. Launching the fireworks from Dark Beauty Castle's towers and destroying The Blot once and for all.

By the time this battle rolled around, The Blot had covered Wasteland in Bloticles, devouring all the paint within Wasteland to increase his power. And his size. He was a titan when Oswald accidentally released him from the bottle. The skies were suffocated in his malignant miasma, the flakes of hardened ink that fell from the sky like the ashes of a massive brush fire. Toons ran for their forgotten lives, desperately searching for anywhere to hide and wait out this storm. Blotlings amassed in hordes upon hordes, laying waste to every region of Wasteland the Bloticles reached. Toons that were unfortunate enough to be in their sights were severely maimed. The trauma that was left would be an irremovable scar. But how the people have grown stronger since the application of that scar was nothing short of remarkable. Oswald became extremely proud of his people, and reveled in the new friend he had made. This was a diorama he was proud to stand before.

This diorama was pretty straightforward to fix. The firework displayed just needed to be adjusted and put into the proper positions. It was just a matter of pressing on the floor panels. That took a bit of work. If one was turned left, the others would turn the opposite way. Oswald's patience was tested beyond its limit. Thank the Turps and Tints for Gus and Mickey. Their patience and ability to plan solved this little puzzle right quick. The fireworks were aimed at The Blot's massive cut out, and the scenario changed from his reign to his defeat. Oswald and Mickey puffed out their chests, bumping fists. This was a glorious day for them. Prescott gets high marks for this one.

The trio departed for the fourth and final diorama. There they will learn when Cecelia met up with Prescott, and how she came to send them that horrific call. Abe wasn't waiting for them at the end of the transport tubes like he usual does, telling them they had to keep moving forward. They did hear him over the intercom telling them that he was feeling 100% better than ever. He was silent from there.

The fourth diorama was a bit of a let down. It was nothing more than a vacant room that was added after The Blot's Defeat Diorama. This diorama wasn't even remotely finished. Seemed like Prescott started it, but never was able to get around to finishing it. Therefore it didn't need to be fixed. That doesn't mean they take a minute to admire the craftsmanship. Cutouts of Mickey, Oswald, Ortensia, Gus, Prescott, and both Cecelia's child and adult forms lied on the ground. Oswald's ego swelled admiring his cutout. Though he'd swear he was taller. And Ortensia's head isn't that big. Mickey liked his cutout enough. But were his ears really that round? Or big. Gus had no complaints about his or Prescott's cutout. Prescott got his own evil sneer down perfectly. What caught his attention were the different cutouts of Cecelia. The child cut out had shifting eyes. Red to green. Her real eye color before her curse was set to her. The adult had a spellbook and a fuzzy yellow outline. Along with some plywood, crates of springs, cables, platforms, and hooks. Setup at the walls are the setting backgrounds. One was of Dark Beauty Castle, and the cliffside beyond the castle.

"This was to be Cecelia's battle with The Blot." Gus stated in awe. "What a marvel this would have been."

"Whoa…" Oswald shuddered, meandering to a cutout on the floor. "Check this one out." Mickey and Gus came over in curiosity. There was a pile of extra cutouts. Gus and Mickey peered over Oswald's shoulder. They lost their breath. Oswald and Mickey propped up the cutout of a coffin. Cecelia was inside it and Prescott over her. "It's her funeral."

"I was so close to forgetting that day." Mickey moaned. They all were.

"To think Cecelia must have seen this one her way to meet Prescott." Gus rubbed his arm, dismayed that she got a sense of what he death was like for Prescott, and those who attended. What none of them wished to forget was - what the next cutout depicted - was the kiss that brought her back to them. Prescott was leaning in and kissing her, a depiction of her heart between them. The final one was Cecelia waking up, and she and Prescott having a fairytale ending. "You can see the love he put into the details of her." Gus traced his fingers down Prescott and Cecelia's cutouts. "He took extra care to make these cutouts resemble the real thing...so he would always have her."

"Man...this sucks…" Oswald shoved it away. "I feel like I want to cry right now." It took an extra ounce of willpower for him to divert his rising foot and stomp on the ground beside the cut out. "I want to punch, break, and destroy everything." Just knowing what this diorama was meant to represent, and what has transpired, infuriated him beyond rationality.

"Cecelia must feel the same way." Mickey moaned. Oswald and Gus wished for this trip to be over. Knowing what Cecelia has seen, what's she's learned, and what's likely happening to her as they speak makes their stomachs churn. This can't possibly get any worse.

"Hey there, fellas! Up here!" Abe called to them from a hallway. "Come on up here! I've got something for ya!" He may have been calling to them with a chipper tone, but neither of the trio found it contagious. As they meandered to the automata, they can only imagine what else this venture was going to throw at them. Abe flamboyantly emerged from his pedestal, hooting and laughing heartily. "Thanks a bunch for fixing the dioramas. I'm feeling fantastic!" He flexed his mechanical muscles, earning a tiny smile from his three friends. "I don't know how to thank you boys enough, so I'll have to settle with this." He tapped on the projector screen beside him. A snowy image raided the screen, gradually smoothing into a full image of the hallway at the first diorama. Oswald, Mickey, and Gus's jaws slackened. "I found that footage you asked me for. Take a look." Abe played it for them, then sank into his podium.

Oswald, Mickey, and Gus gathered in close. Not one of them was so much as breathing as the regular motion clip played. The angle gave them the whole hallways, including the wall right there before the turn. So far the only thing they saw was a rat scurry by...and a couple Spatters doing the tango on their way out. Gus activated the fast forward when it was coming on five minutes and they saw nothing happening. It was coming on the ten minute mark, and the trio was tapping their toes, drumming fingers on a folded arm, or trying not to fall asleep. Finally, once it was at 15 minutes, was when the show started.

"Look there!" Gus gasped. Oswald and Mickey were shocked awake, gluing their eyes to the screen. Prescott came fluttering on screen, a sneaky glare on his brow as he scanned the hallway. "Prescott! So he was here!" Gus snarled. The aforementioned Gremlin flew to Abe's pedestal, calling him out to him. The mechanical man appeared and started talking with him. Oswald wondered if the footage was broken because there was no sound. Gus sensed his irk and confirmed that these types of projectors don't come with sound. None of them do, really. They were made before sound, outside of music, was a thing. Oswald forgot about that.

Anyway, as they continued to watch Abe and Prescott talk with one another, the conversation getting heated every so often. Prescott's body language spoke volumes that he was losing patience with whatever Abe was trying to tell him. Both were too far away to either of the trio to really get a sense of what they were saying. But, from what they can interpret, Abe was trying his hardest to keep the peace while Prescott was becoming infuriated about something. It irritated Oswald that he couldn't hear anything. He can read lips, but Prescott had to put a camera so far out of the way. He can just ask Abe later what they talked about. The footage was starting to get good.

"Hey...look right there!" Mickey's voice shook. Oswald and Gus were baffled by why he sounded so scared. Then they saw it at the bottom left of the screen. The lighting was bad - near pitch black and hazy - but that was one patch of white hair and set of red eyes they'd never mistaken anywhere. "Cecelia!"

"She did come through here!" Oswald gasped. Cecelia was about to wander into the next hall. Oswald, Mickey, and Gus leaned in on the edge of their seats. Well, their toes. They were standing, not sitting. NOT IMPORTANT! Anyway, they stretched their necks like taffy, their eyes bulging out of their sockets. This was going to be it. This had to be it! This is where Cecelia and Prescott would meet and she'd call them for help. Imagine their disappointment when she stopped suddenly at the corner and ducked into hiding when she saw Prescott. Oswald was on his tippy toes and was so dumbfounded that he slipped into a faceplant. Mickey and Gus winced at the impact, but were equally disappointed. Oswald pushed up on his palm, a piece of plywood stuck to his face. It fell off, revealing how not amused he was. Then his eyes widened.

Cecelia wasn't making herself known, or even attempting to reveal herself to Prescott. She was just sitting there. Listening to him. He brow would furrowed in curiosity, then her face would slacken in dismay, followed by a quick bolt of shock. The hurt glossing her eyes tore at them. Her mouth would fall open like she was going to say something, only for her lips to seal themselves shut. Her ears flicked crazily, fighting to close off what they were hearing, but unable to stop listening. Her tail was passing, wrapping around her small waist so she could contain herself. Whatever she was hearing, it was torturing her. No just her anymore. By the time the video ended, Prescott and Abe went their separate ways. Cecelia was poking her head around the corner, waiting for Prescott to get ahead. Then she snuck after him. Every footage from that point on was Cecelia sneaking behind Prescott, keeping to the shadows as she followed him.

"So that's what was happening." Oswald gaped. "She was stalking him! Whatever Prescott and Abe were discussing raised red flags in her head!" He deduced. "She might not have thought Prescott would hurt her, but she didn't trust him enough to confront him."

"She must have discovered he was up to something and waited to reveal herself." Gus proposed.

"Until The Floatyard." Mickey added ominously. Gus and Oswald ogled him in bewilderment. "Remember, Ian said she and Prescott were enjoying each other's company in The Fort. They were a happy as can be couple." Mickey pointed at his communicator pin. "We wouldn't have gotten that call for help if things were still peachy." Confusion was replaced by stunned realization. "Meaning, by the time their leisurely stroll through The Fort was done, things took a very sour turn in The Floatyard."

"And Prescott lashed out at her." Gus ended forebodingly.

"Then what are we waiting for?!" Oswald roared. "Let's triple time it! Cecelia's waiting for us!"

 **To be continued! I know, I know! There isn't much at all to this chapter. And I won't lie, I rushed through it. But the next one will be where Prescott is confronted and I promise it will be better than this shit chapter. Those of you who are my fans know I always bounce back from a bad chappie. ;)**


	21. What an Idiot

**What an Idiot**

 **This will be tremendously short. I realize I've been gone, so this is to tide you guys over.**

 **xxx**

Falling...falling...falling...all she ever seems to do is fall. She climbs and climbs, ascending the rickety, splintering ladder staked in a field ravaged by trials, tribulations, grief, and hardships. Her father abandoning, her mother passing away, the curse that regressed her to her child form, leaving her friends in the human world - it was all at the foot of that ladder, waiting to swallow her up again. And those grievances always seem to increase at the shortest of moments. She gets higher every day that she attempts to move on with her life. She finds new adventures, new interests, discovers the wonders of potions, dabbles in art from time to time, took an interest in technology. She got the most wonderful boyfriend, befriended the most amazing people, conquered her nightmares, braved her past, took on two psychopaths and saved a world of forgotten cartoon characters. How can someone not be reborn as an all new person from this? For crying out loud, Cecelia felt like she was reincarnated as a someone else entirely after all of that. The friends she's made since then, the good times she's had with her grandfather, all of these new paths paving before her - the ladder she climbed was rejuvenating itself with each prong she climbed, letting her fingers at least brush the rays of light awaiting her past that fog. It was right there. She could have spat on it. She could feel the warmth tickling her fingertips. And right there...as she felt a single ray touch her face...the prongs at her hands and feet just shattered. Her body was weightless, the world tilting on its axis. The disbelief that shrouded her sparkling eyes just died on the spot, ripping the vibrancy of the red clear out. Her skin went pale as the frigid air of the darkness wafted to her skin. In despair she reached out for something - anything - to save her from this fall. There was nothing. A toxic miasma coiled to her arm, pulling it far from any sort of salvation. Venomous tentacles reaching from that abyss wrapped to her whole body to drag her back to where she belonged. And this time...she would never come out.

This was it. She resigned herself to her fate. Letting the full weight of gravity take her beneath the fog. She tried her hardest to climb back up the cliff. To reach the ledge that would pave the path to her revenge. Prescott...he betrayed her. Played her for a fool with the very love they swore to one another all of a year ago. Just like her father. Unconditional love from every corner of his heart bequeathed to the one girl more precious to him than all the riches of the world. If those riches were corroded, fading, and becoming brittle. They both cast her aside, reduced her to meaning nothing to them. And they are both going to let her fall to her lowest, and hit the floor of that chasm where she will shatter, and never recover. Maybe she can conjure a gust of wind to save her. Or maybe create an elastic band to bungee her. There's something somewhere in both her head and book that she can use to save herself. But...why bother? Why save herself? What's left for her except for pain? She might as well just lie there, and wait for the inevitable impact.

"GOTCHA!" Arms from the breath of nowhere swooped under her knees and at her back. The sudden jerk and cold air gusting to her face broke her from her resigned stage, shocking her back to life and in the arms of Oswald. "I've got you, Cecelia!" The Lucky Rabbit howled, his little ears spinning at top speed.

"Oswald?!" She screamed. This wasn't a dream, or a hallucination. Oswald saved her! Where did he come from?! How did he find her?! Before Cecelia had a chance to ask him the hows and whens, she heard something snap from above them. "LOOK OUT!" A giant Christmas bulb broke from the floatyard, smacking Oswald square in the face. Was more like a bowling ball than a bulb. He was sent hurtling backwards, Cecelia being flung right out of his arms. She clawed at the air desperately, steadying herself as she flipped out of control. Her stomach smashed to the cliff ledge, the wind robbed from her lungs burned with a fire. She clawed at the dirt, tiny grooves dug in the dirt as she slid. She was furiously paddling her her feet into the cliff side, wiggling her body to gain ground. The earth worked against her, sliding her to her fifth fall of the day.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Two pairs of hands latched to each of hers, her slide was stopped. She gasped in shock, meeting the strained winces of a gremlin and mouse lying on their stomachs.

"Mickey?! Gus?!" She cried. Where the Hell do these guys come from at the last second?!

"Hold on!" Mickey bent a knee under him, gaining some traction.

"Pull her up!" Gus fluttered his feet like the wind, pulling with all his might. Cecelia managed to break through her amazement and dug in her shoes, climbing up with them. She slid part of the way, then stumbled as her feet finally made it to solid ground. She let them drag her 20 feet from that blasted ledge, then she and the boys fell to the dirt, their chests rising and falling in labored wind. "OH GOSH! OH MY!" Gus wheezed.

"We got her!" Mickey's shout echoed. Amazing he could scream with how winded he was.

Oswald flew from the fig covered cavern, rubbing his sore face. He was right. It was a bowling ball decorated like a Christmas ornament. Never mind that now. He flew down to Cecelia, fumbling onto his hands and knees beside her. She wasn't able to yelp he grabbed her in a fierce hug so fast. He smothered her, squeezing her so tight to assure himself that they caught up to her. "There you are! You're okay! We made it!" He roughly ran his hand down her back, almost in tears he was so happy. That was too close. Had they been another second too late...he doesn't want to think about it. He...he wouldn't have been able to apologize. "Cecelia...I'm so sorry! For everything! Being late, Prescott, all of it!" He was in such a state he was blathering, wanting to get it all out before he lost his chance. Gus and Mickey didn't stop him. If they had the energy they'd be doing the samething. "I'm so sorry, Cecelia. I really am."

Cecelia gradually relaxed her body and mind, grasping that she was on solid ground...she was safe. She was among friends, her soul was bought another day longer in the mortal coil, and...her ladder fall was only...halfway. "Oz...Mick...Gus…" She had to say their names one more time, wrapping her own arms around Oswald in order to solidly confirm that the danger was past. She was happy. She truly was. And yet...her face was frozen in disbelief. Her eyes felt dry. She...was numb. How did...how did you guys find me?"

"Ian got us here through some shortcuts." Mickey answered her. Those secret areas in the Fort and Train Diorama are pretty convenient. Gotta love how engineers and construction workers make hacks for themselves. Cecelia really needs to thank Ian later. The guy is amazing. Oswald pulled himself back, letting the girl breathe. When they all managed to get in a moment, gasps of dismay erupted from the three boys. Their horrified stares just glued on her. Cecelia was baffled by what they were staring at and took a good look at herself. She was taken aback. She was a mess. "Man...what-" Mickey inspected her. Her torn clothing showed darkening bruises all up and down her tiny body, superficial grazes riddled with dirt on her face, palms, and knees. Her hands were married from her climb. Scorch Marks on her clothing were still hot. Even her white hair was riddled with filth.

"Cecelia…?" Gus moved in close, cupping a hand under her chin. Her bruises and cuts were already swelling. He's shocked nothing on her is broken. And neither he nor the other two are going to pretend they didn't notice the mess on the way into the Floatyard. Looked like someone shot off a bunch of cannons strapped with fireworks and then went at the rest with flamethrowers and a dozen lightning infused rods. "Did...I mean...haa…" Gus put a hand over his face, shaking his head. He wants to be delicate about this...but their time has run out. He put his hands to her shoulders, starling with her with a serious leer. "What happened, Cecelia?" Though he already knew the answer.

Cecelia's glossy eyes widened, and she dropped her head. "I taught him everything…" She mumbled raspily, overcome with defeat. "Everything...he would need...to be successful." Her nails dug in the dirt, her blood boiling of the top and freezing as it spilled. She wasn't as numb as she thought. Just in shock. "He wanted to learn...just as I wanted to learn…" She wanted to be part of his world and absorb his knowledge. Tears she thought dried up got soaked into the garbage soil. Cecelia's body was trembling. "I was...so happy...to have someone like that. Who I can share this with…and who could share with me!" The rage was tearing her body into ribbons. Tears she wished to hold back were spilling without signs of end. "I've never had someone like that! Ever! I didn't want to lose it!" Mickey, Gus, and Oswald, though already aware of what they would discover, grieved that they were right...and that Cecelia had to suffer for it. "I was happy...I was so happy...and not for a second did I see what was really going on right in front of me!" That isn't true. Deep down she knows it is. She saw the signs. It was all right there. She just chose to ignore to spare herself further pain. Didn't work out so well.

Oswald placed a hand to her head, sliding it to her cheek. "I'm...I'm so sorry. Truly I am."

"Why? You were right the whole time." She replied with a voice void of any emotion. She removed his hand, edging herself away from their warm circle, resigning herself to frigid solitude. "Prescott stole my magic, he sabotaged the projectors, he played everyone - even me - for days." He looked them - HER - straight in the eye and LIED. He led them on wild goose chases so h could bring his evil plans to fruition. The evidence stared her in the face countless times - it even threw itself at her with how odd he's been behaving, and all of these projects he seems to hide from everyone. Still she went on like nothing was amiss. She had nothing left in her except a scathing snicker. She glanced to Oswald with empty eyes, making his skin crawl in sorrow. "Guess your doctor really is a changed man."

"Cecelia...no…" This isn't what Oswald wanted. Not at all. Cecelia's knees knocked together as she forced herself to stand. Her muscles felt like noodles from her falls. She's going to feel this tomorrow. For now...as she turned on her heels...she would feel nothing else on her jaunt back. "Cecelia, wait! Where are you going?"

She stopped mid stride. "Somewhere I won't be a burden." She moaned. "Prescott has my magic. I'm nothing without it. And I can't beat him without it. I'll...I'll just be in the way." She sank.

Mickey, Gus, and Oswald could not believe what they just heard. Cecelia continued on her way again. "WHAT?! Hold up!" Mickey slid in her path, arms spread to stop her from escaping. "You're giving up?! What is this?! Did Prescott steal your spirit too?!" Cecelia preferred not to answer that. "Your ex-boyfriend has your powers, is probably going to hurt someone with them, and you're going to just pack up and leave?!" Does he need to express in words how angry he is with her right now.

"You guys are here. Wasteland will be fine. It doesn't need me." She sighed heavily, trying to walk around him.

"Yes it does, and so do we!" Mickey stepped in her way again. "Don't you remember how you inspired us all to face our fears when The Blot was in control? Or how, no matter how harrowing the odds, you kept everyone's hope alive and re-ignited their will to fight?" She vaguely recalls. She doesn't really remember the day, let alone last year at the moment. "You had your magic stolen before, your nightmares turned against you - why would you give up now if you didn't then?"

"Because, Mickey, it's a whole other ball game when your heart is stomped into nothing." She groaned. There's nothing left in her. No fire, no determination - she just wants to fade into nothingness. "My Dad, Prescott - both swore to the moon and back that they loved me. And yet it was so easy for them to turn on me." It's always been simple for people to turn on her. To break her until she was completely decimated. "Wasteland would be safe right now if I had just paid attention. If I was a better judge of character. That being said," She put a hand to his shoulder to move him out of the way, "I don't deserve to save Wasteland this time." She was going to leave. That was that.

"Is that your only reason?!" Mickey stopped her again with a grab at her wrist. This was getting old. "Cecelia, you messed up! What defines you now is how you make up for it!" What defines her? That's a good one. Screw up seems to fit. "Prescott's powerful now. Big deal! You're smarter than he is when it comes to your powers! You're smarter than all of us in general!" He placed his other hand to her shoulder, coming in close. "We started this journey together. Let's finish it together."

And she'd love nothing more than to see this to the end. To bring Prescott's schemes crashing down around him. There's just one problem. She can't bring herself to meet with Prescott. Not now. Not after everything that has happened. "I'm sorry, Mickey." She shook him off her once more, this time bolting into a run. "You'll have to finish this without me!"

"Cecelia, come back!" Mickey was going to chase he down.

"No, let her go!" Oswald stopped him. And Cecelia was gone.

"But she-"

"She's not sad, Mick. She's broken." Oswald stopped him. This isn't as simple as her being sad. This is more complicated. "Trying to talk her into coming back will only make it worse."

"But we need her. We don't stand a chance against Prescott without her." Mickey implored him.

"And she knows that. Trust me. She'll be back for us."

"How are you so sure?"

Oswald gazed to where Cecelia disappeared, a soft smile creeping to his lips. "Because I would." And those were his final words as he meandered in the direction of their...enemy. Gus and Mickey didn't like just taking off after Prescott. They wanted to go get Cecelia. Then again, the last time they tried consoling her after a trauma she vanished in a puff of smoke and hid from them. This might be what she needs.

 **xxx**

She was running...running away again. Sheh ad to get far away from them. Far away from HIM! She can't take this anymore. Her little legs numb with icy hotness as they fought to keep going. Her heart pumping to the brink of bursting. She wants to get far way from Prescott, go back to the workshop and forget this ever happened. She'll forget it all. Wasteland, Prescott, her magic, the quakes - NONE OF IT MATTERS ANYMORE! SHE DOESN'T CARE! IT CAN ALL GO TO HELL!

An old chest stuck in the dirt collided with the toe of her shoe. "WHOA!" Cecelia tripped into a sliding face full of musty soil, stopping that the edge of the D.E.C. _It's over,_ she thought. _Nothing matters anymore. Why bother. Nothing will change what has happened. It's all my fault._ She planted her palms, peeling herself from the soil and spitting it up as well. She started shaking again as she sat on her knees. She was biting into her lip, trying her hardest not to scream. "Stupid…" She frothed at the mouth. She smashed her fist repeatedly into the ground. "You're so stupid, Cecelia." She doesn't deserve to help Mickey, Oswald, and Gus finish this mission. Wasteland doesn't need someone like her. A failure. They'll be better off. She fumbled her hands about, searching for the hatch of the D.E.C. Her fingers brushed a familiar patch of leather. Her hand smoothed to the bindings, her skin prickling. Her red eyes fell to the spellbook lying there amongst the dirt, returning the light to her eyes. She...she didn't realize she had dropped it until now. "My...book…" It was waiting for her right here this whole time. Not that inanimate objects can wait. It's possible it was just forgotten about. But still...for it to be in plain sight like this...it almost felt...like a sign. A sign that brewed an idea and blew the lid off the top of her head. "The...ritual!" She tore her book open, slapping 30 pages aside at the speed of light, her eyes skimming every phrase and paraphrase at it came, coming to a dead halt where the ritual was torn from. That will never stop tearing at her. But it wasn't important right now. What was important was the page just beyond the tear. Her jaw dropped like a hammer on an anvil, and an idea smacked her across the face. "OH MAN! I am stupid!" She scrambled to get into a dead run, hoping that Mickey, Oswald, and Gus hadn't gotten too far ahead.

 **To be continued...again.**

 **But things seem to be getting interesting.**


	22. The Mask is Removed

**The Mask is Removed**

 **I'm back. Let's get going.**

 **xxx**

A brother in arms...a guardian angel sent by the grace of heaven...a friend when none seemed to exist. That's who Prescott was. Sure, he became a grouch. Who's anyone kidding? He's always been a grouch. He's become a recluse. That's more appropriate. But even as a recluse...no one imagine for a single moment that he would join the ranks of Wasteland's monsters. He helped them save Wasteland only but a short year ago. He helped combat the growing forces of The Blot and Max Doctor. He was a hero. A light in the darkness. Now he's just another machnication of evil. Nothing more than a puppet to his own whims and wanton, twisted desires. And he's been allowed to get away with it because of the blind eyes turned to him. Well...no more. Enough was enough. No more games, no more running. Here and now they are going to face Prescott and make him pay for his schemes. The despair he caused when he destroyed the projectors, the pain he inflicted with his betrayal, and scars he left in his wake shall not go without receiving the utmost maximum of punishments. For his crimes against Wasteland, the people, and against Cecelia, Oswald will not show him any sort of mercy. With Mickey and Gus, Oswald will bring Prescott down, and make him pay dearly for all the pain he has caused.

 **xxx**

Gus, Mickey, and Oswald treaded extra lightly throughout the Floatyard. A region of Wasteland long forgotten like the many that were swallowed by the the Thinner Disaster. A region serving as a graveyard for all the junk that fell into Wasteland, or what other have decided was obsolete to them. Guess, Prescott felt right at home. Making this journey all the more dangerous. This, by the very Tee of the definition, was Prescott's kingdom. No one knew the ins and out, the dangers and hazards, better than the meticulous, maniacal, and compulsive gremlin. The hours he's slaved away here with whatever projects he's been constructing have granted him a stone etched map of this entire plane. There isn't a step they can make without him being able to prepare a countermeasure for it. Good thing Mickey and Oswald lived for this sort of danger. It was their bread and butter. Gus, on the other hand, preferred to have his pancakes and eggs on a veranda far, far, far, FAR away from this sort of thing. His moral support knows no bounds.

Virulent clangs of metal on metal echoed in the chasm of junk. Oswald stopped abruptly, Mickey and Gus bumping into him. He put a finger to his lips, shushing them so they would hear those clangs. One rapidstrike after the other. Like someone was whacking moles and leaving them concussed. Someone nearby was hammering away, and Mickey and Oswald seriously hoped it wasn't a whack a mole game with real moles. Gus had chills. He was able to feel the anger behind the impacts. Each vicious _CLANG_ reverberating in his bones. He placed a hand to his friends' shoulders, warning them with a grim expression that they were about to encounter Prescott. He's the only one capable of expressing his emotions in his work so passionately. It used to inspire most. Now it just scares others.

Gus, Mickey, and Oswald plastered their backs to a cold steel wall. Their sliding was met by not so dull protruding objects. Fun for those itches they hadn't reached, not so great when it broke skin. The clanging was getting louder. It sounded like it was coming from the large bronze piping running across the pathway. Thankful the only thing coming from it was steam from built up pressure. The trio darted from the wall and ducked behind the piping. They poked their heads out. There above them, hammering away at a gigantic robotic arm was Prescott. Gus knit his brow intensely, eyeing that black jar on Prescott's hip. There was a cord going from it to his gauntlet. "I've seen that jar before." He whispered, meaning to keep it to himself.

"You have?" Oswald tried not to gasp aloud.

"When?" Mickey asked hushly.

"Prescott just recently acquired it. He'd always put it away in a safe." Gus explained baffled, finding it to be rather neurotic for a jar.

"What's in it?" Mickey pressed.

"I think we're about to find out." Oswald warned them.

Prescott's hammering was too erratic. There was no precision at all. He paid the price for his lack of control when he broke off the thumb. It ricocheted on the narrow chasm walls on its plummet. It had a thousand places to land, and it chose just on the other side of Mickey, Gus, and Oswald's hiding place. "BLAST!" He screamed impatiently. All of these hiccups are wearing on his nerves. One more and he just might blow it up. "Is nothing meant to go right today?!" He huffed. Oswald was no mechanic, but those frayed wires and that tear in the metal - no way that was getting glued back on. Prescott reached into his pack, pulling out a small notebook. He flipped through a dozen pages, eyes skimming the contents, and stopped with a finger jab to a page. He was muttering under his breath, preventing Gus and the boys from hearing what he was reading. Prescott was satisfied with his brief study. He snapped the book shut, eyeing the broken thumb harshly. He closed his eyes, taking in several deep breaths to calm the rage storm within him. "Calm...quiet...focus…" He chanted to himself. He reached out with the gloved hand. The jar rattled as if something was trying to escape. A liquid based swirl of lights slithered up the insulated cord attached to the jar. A gadge ranging from red to yellow to green climbed along the forearm. Mickey, Gus, and Oswald went absolutely pale, silently gasping in horror. A green and gold aura seeped from the glove, coiling to it delicately on its way to the fingertips. A flare of Prescott's eyes and the glow of the aura was within them. " _Nullam gravitatis."_ _ **(No gravity)**_ A slurred echoe radiated from his curt chant. Dozens of tiny, pin needle lights appeared around the thumb. They darted erratically like gnats, tracing thin threads up and down the thumb. The thumb shook as it slowly rose from the dirt. Mickey, Gus, and Oswald's heads, with their mouths still agape, followed the thumb up. Prescott twisted his hand around, beckoning the thumb with a single digit, _"Reditus…"_ _ **(Return)**_ More threads linked to the others like a harness, pulling the thumb back to its used both hands to change the position of the thumb, aligning all wires and edges with one another. "Hmph!" He bobbed his head complacently. This wasn't hard at all for him. The thumb wasn't even that heavy. " _Emantur ligna!_ " _**(Mend)**_ The frayed wires linked, absorbing the rampant sparks surging everywhere. The metallic torn edges became liquidated, melding together and pulling the thumb to the base. The torn edges sealed themselves closed, and all five digits were working good as new. Prescott put his knuckles to his hips, huffing in a job well done. Couldn't have done it better if he tried. He blew on his glove, grinning menacingly at how simple that was.

"I...don't believe it…" A funny thing for Oswald to declare. Considering Cecelia told them not even five minutes ago. Although, Oswald's always had to see the impossible in order to believe it. He was shaking in his little bunny shorts. There in front of his face, he saw it first hand. "He really stole. Prescott stole Cecelia's magic."

"And he knows how to use it." Gus trembled, breaking into a cold sweat. He placed a hand to his forehead, sinking miserably. "This just got a lot harder."

Prescott caught movement from the corner of his eyes. Patches of color standing out near that large pipe. "WHO'S THERE?!" He snarled venomously. Mickey, Oswald, and Gus didn't hesitate. Hiding wouldn't get there to where they needed to be. They jumped onto the piping, glaring brazenly at the purple gremlin. Prescott scoffed at the dirt, throwing his wrench in fury. "Well, well, if it isn't the _snooping duo._ " He hissed in disgust at Oswald and Mickey. "And is that Gus with you as well? Isn't this perfect?" Figures they would show up after Cecelia. Not that he should be shocked. These three are as nosy as she is. And just as pushy. Not as cute though. "Abe told me you were coming. Thanks for fixing the diorama. A shame that's all you'll be fixing this time!" The malice in his hiss caused that mechanic hand to tremble.

"It's over, Prescott!" Oswald boldly declared with a balled fist. He has magic in his arsenal - who cares! Oswald has faced down worse in order to protect Wasteland. He won't be frightened by some gremlin with an inferiority compels. "You're not getting away from us this time!"

"Over?!" Prescott guffawed mockingly. Big talk that always comes from this small rabbit. "My Dear Lucky Rabbit, it's only just begun!" He proclaimed with a scathing bow. To prove his point, he summoned a small light to the tip of his index finger. " _Life to the lifeless. Personification adhere."_ He changed _._ He drew a strange symbol neither of the trio made heads or tails of, then sliced it down the middle and across. " _Rise again machnications. Weapons of hate, scorn, and jeer!"_ The symbol broke into four smaller symbols, each diverting off to a particular piece of junk lounging about. Metallic fist punched free of the compacted junk. Feet kicked away the large masses crushing them. Heads sprouted into the fresh air. Their unscrewed necks turning a full, very creepy, 180 degrees. Perpetual smiles of old Abe units boring down on the heroic trio. Mickey, Gus, and Oswald stood back to back, mouths agape as a dozen of the Abe Clones surrounded them. The sheer number of these bots, each one with an upgrade the other didn't, screamed at the top of their lungs how busy Prescott has been. On the dioramas...and in the Floatyard. "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again! That is a motto I tried to take on for my work…" His smug expression contorted into a deep rooted hatred directed straight at Gus, "But your motto - if you don't succeed scrap it - suffocated it until I was trapped 24/7 amongst those genius insulting gags!" His voice cracked with the pent up rage that he had yet to unleash.

"Prescott…" Gus whimpered. It can be seen in his glistening eyes. What he has contained for the past year - longer even - was boiling right at the surface, making the lid bounce. Gus didn't notice he was inching closer for his comrade, wanting desperately to reach that part of him that still holds love for Wasteland. Two of the Obsolete Abes took up piping and pitchforks. Gus was glad he had Oswald and Mickey there because they wrenched him back just as the sharpened pipe and pitchfork jabbed at him.

The Obsolete ones, Wasteland rest their souls, hobbled with creepy glaring grins. Their limbs barely holding up on the trudge for their master's enemies. Displaced hips sparking wildly with frayed wires, joints stripped from their sockets and dangling by threads. A paint job that had tender, love, and care put into every detail was just scraped off, corroding by the filth, must, and contaminated chemicals. "My talents were WASTED in the _GAG FACTORY!_ Wasted by YOU, GUS!" Gus clutched at the dagger digging itself deeper into his chest. Not as deep as the Obsolete Abes wanted to bury knives and bats. "But now...here among these discarded relics," Prescott lovingly embraced one of his failed contraptions, caressing the oily face plating, "My genius can be seen by the world!"

"Won't be seeing much of it once we take you down!" Oswald warned venomously. Prescott chuckled darkly at the veiled threat. He drifted from his Obsolete contraptions, daring Oswald and Company to come at him with a spread of his arms. "PRESCOTT! PREESSCCOOTT!" Without another word, he took off into the Floatyard, eagerly awaiting whoever comes out on top of this fray. "DAMN HIM!"

"KEEP YOUR HEAD, OZ!" Mickey twirled his brush, swatting the head of the first Abe that lunged clean off its shoulders. "We gotta take care of these guys first!" Oswald growled murderously, a pain gnawing at his wavering heart. The worst part is, the pain isn't because Prescott betrayed them. It's because Prescott helped saved this world...and now wants to destroy it.

 **xxx**

Gotta love the Gag Factory hours. 24 hours, no vacations, no holidays, and there's always someone professional on duty. And since Jamface was busy rebuilding the windmill, both ends of the broken Mean Street, and blast doors that were blasted open, he wasn't available. Marcus was still in the hospital from a tv falling on him. Copernicus was in the Observatory, Sparx ran the arcade and his forge, and a large number of Gremlins have been MIA for the longest time. Therefore...they were left with one option.

"MS. CECELIA! GOOD TUH SEE YA AGAIN!" Cecelia was met with a love drenched hug from the animatronic twin of Goofy Goof Dog.

"Hey, Goofy!" She giggled, letting herself be smothered. Goofy gives the best hugs. Kind of takes away the sting from Prescott turning on her. "Sorry I haven't visited. Been...busy." For lack of a better term that doesn't send him into a stress induced coma.

"Been a lot of folks busy lately." Goofy broke from the hug, racing to a cooler he had on standby. "Jamface fixin' up the place, Gus goin' off on inspections no one else knew about…" He sifted through the ice, grabbing a fresh coke, "Oswald and Mickey rescuin' folks from twisted machines," Cecelia glanced sideways while catching the tossed coke. If he knew what was between the lines he was reading, she fears it would fry his circuits, "And now Prescott is on vacation." That almost got her choking on the coke, but she managed to smoothly swallow it. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything is good actually." She lied straight through her teeth, getting a nauseatingly bad taste in her mouth. She hates lying to Goofy. Until this mess with Prescott is sorted out, lies are the band-aide obscuring the scars left from the projectors failing.

"Do you know where everyone is?" He popped his own coke, glancing around the eerily empty warehouse. "All of you seemed to just drop off the face of the world. Ortensia is mighty worried."

"I'm sure she is." Cecelia groaned into her can. _That's right!_ She mentally slapped herself. Ortensia has been left to mind the house and bunny kids while her husband, Mickey, Gus, and Cecelia go ff adventuring. They haven't told her a thing since learning the Projectors were sabotaged. She doesn't even know that the projectors were sabotaged. Oswald asked her and the boys to keep quiet for her sake. Cecelia will tell her everything...when she isn't in a rush. "Right now, Goofy, I need to know if you've seen a big trunk anywhere. Has like a dozen and one locks on it, plus a keypad." She saw that thing the last time she was in here. It was the one he chucked his data pad into when she walked in with Oswald and the others. Now it's gone. Likely put up. What she needs is in that trunk.

"Yeah! I saw it! It's in the closet right here!" He walked her to the large double pane doors, opening them with ease. Lo and behold there it was like it was waiting for her. Her crimson eyes were glistening like rubies. Her hands brushed to the sanded wood like it was the treasure of a lost civilization she's been searching for her entire life. Her only obstacle was the series of locks and the keypad. "Gawrsh. Wonder what's inside that he's gotta have so many locks."

"Something that's going to drastically change his work ethic." She ominously replied. She erected two fingers. A small bronze disk grew. A boney key sprouted.

"What's that?" Goofy flicked it curiously.

"Skeleton key." She snickered impishly. Goofy was half expecting these keyholes to magically appear as an exoskeleton on the locks and pad. Instead Cecelia gave each lock a tap, tap, and tap. The chains, the locks, and shackles popped open and fell off. The keypad bleeped with a pleasant trill, green lettering blaring _**accepted**_ write on the screen, and it fell off. Goofy applauded her with gawking shock. She opened the trunk. Goofy reaction to what seemed like junk to him wasn't unexpected. It's what lies within the junk that Cecelia needed.

"What do you need in here?" Goofy was hoping that it wasn't for the rubber chicken with a shock collar attached. That terrified him.

"The one thing you learn about Prescott is that he makes bulk of his inventions." She rifled inside, pushing the drones, cameras, and his tossed data pad aside. "Precisely why...somewhere in this trunk…" She climbed in, "Are spare…" She was halfway inside, her little legs flutter kicking as she dug deeper. Her tail twitched in sync to her muffled cursing. "AH-HA!" She planted her feet to the edge and pushed. She was stuck a second, then popped out and launched like a cork onto a beanbag chair Goofy grabbed last second. "GOT IT!" She cheered, holding up a wooden box. Goofy was confused again. "Thanks, Goof! Gotta go!" She was out the door before he could ask what she found, or give s proper thanks. He just waved.

 **xxx**

If there's one thing Gus, Mickey, and Oswald have learned over the years, it's to never judge an enemy by their appearance. That mistake was made when Mickey laughed a Seer Blot. Who wouldn't? It's a pint sized eye with feet...that can turn into a high powered bowling ball. Needless to say, Mickey got knocked on his hind. But, digressing from all of that, the Abe bots proved to be more of a challenge than their crumbling bodies gave them credit for.

The weapons they wielded - common variety junk - didn't really do much for them in terms of an advantage. A couple of the Abes went after Oswald. One had a lamp that it swung fiercely by the cord, and the other found some of butter knives. The weapons weren't so intimidating, but the speed they moved at was. Oswald barely had time to blink and the Abe with the knives charged him. It spun the dull cutlery in its mangled fingers, the glow of the moon turning them into little disks. It swiped up and down, left and right. Headshots, ear shots, even the cottontail tail. Oswald was dancing between the strikes, holding a firm scowl as he maintained his nerve. He used his remote hear and there to parry the knives. Thank goodness they couldn't chip at butter, otherwise Oswald would be putting in E-Bucks for a new remote. Nevertheless, Oswald didn't let that distract him. Lets he forget the second Abe trying to sneak up on him from behind a ravaged couch. With a gargled roar it jumped to the back like a feral animal, swinging the lamp like nunchucks and lashing out blindly for the lucky rabbit. Oswald revved his ears, rocketing out of the Abe's reach. He perched perfectly to a piece of piping a ways up, snickering mockingly at the furious Abes. Hard to take them seriously when they have those stupid smiles on all the time. The Abes gathered beneath him. Ravenous animals waiting for their quarry to fall from his salvation. Oswald was about to give them a shock of their lives. He got a little upgrade in his remote that he was dying to try out. He had lead the viciously attacking Abes right where he wanted him. Why not? He opened a compartment in the back of the remote. He plucked a tiny, glowing speck of condensed indelible ink, paint, thinner, and lightning shard. Both conveniently found and mined in the Rainbow Caverns. He put the speck to the flashing red orb on the antenna. The speck melted into a thin coating. Oswald aimed the remote and hit the button. In place of electricity, a coagulated funnel fanned to the two Abes. Slithering streams of electricity swan within the funnel. The Abes were captured in the netting. Once it touches their bodies, waves of electricity seeped into their bodies, frying their circuits from the inside out, dropping them like dolls without strings. "So gotta thank Jamface when I see him." Oswald blew on the antenna, very proud of the field test.

Pebbles of junk plopped top his head and shoulders. He looked up and grimaced. An Abe was climbing from the top of the huge junk pile, walking like a crab on all fours. Its head went from right side up to a ominously creepy upside down. And because their eyes don't blink, Oswald could feel his soul being torn into little pieces by its gaze. This one didn't have a weapon like its counterparts did. Instead it opened its mouth. A bundle of wires came wriggling out, squealing shrilly like dying worms. The frayed cording raging with virulent sparks. Oswald swallowed nervously. The Abe drew its head back. With a powerful thrust the wires darted for Oswald. "Oh no you don't!" Gus flew in their path, tangling those malefic wires to his twirling wrench. A deadlock was formed. Gus holding his own admirable with no source of traction beneath his fluttering feet. He mustered the hidden strength he kept tucked away in case of emergencies, engaging this malformed, malignant machination of mechanics in a heated game of tug of war. The Abe fortified himself to the pile, snarling rabidly as its feet and hands planted. It wildly wrenched its head side to side, reeling the wires and Gus in. "You underestimate my power!" Gus roared. With both hands secured to the wrench, and his little feet revving into overdrive, Gus darted into a sharp dive. The Abe's neck nearly disconnected, but it was holding firm, stubbornly turning the gears in its mouth to get that gremlin in his jaws. Gus was more nimble than the Abe gave him credit for. He was dragging those wires to their breaking point. He wrapped them to a light pole, weaved them in an Eiffel Tower model, dove through one large set of pipes and came out the other end, went into a Neverland puddle hanging to an awning and came out from swimming pool. The abe was trembling feverishly, his body about to keel over from the strain. He was dripping in oily sweat. The wires in his whole body were coming undone. His hands and feet were about to slip out. He steeled himself nonetheless, not ready to give in. Gus finally ended his entanglement at a tractor sized lawn mower that was still running. The Abe grimaced sickly, whimpering like a puppy. It shook its head, begging Gus not to do what he was thinking of doing. Gus grinned like the Cheshire Cat and slipped the wires into the blades. The Abe wasn't able to hold on. He was ripped from the pile. Oswald and the other Abes watched in blank awe as it was rocketed around the pole, crashed through the Eiffel Tower Model, hit every surface inside the pipes and leaving nice impressions, went into the puddle and out the pool with frogs and fish in a formation atop its head. Alarms rang in the Abe and pond creatures' heads as the lawnmower came up. The creatures abandoned Abe. The Abe glanced resignedly at the fourth wall and held up a sign that said, _**Knew I should have been a dishwasher.**_ The lawnmower inhaled him, chewed him to pieces, and it burped out a metallic spinal cord. Gus guffawed in triumph with knuckles to his hips. Machines are no match for him. Another one of the Abes came up behind him, snarling with foam coming out of its mouth. Gus frowned impassively. Without turning, he bashed his wrench into its face. The Abe laughed drunkenly, a tooth popping out, and then collapsed. The lawnmower activated its high powered vacuum function and sucked the Abe in, spitting out its skull.

Mickey had the last two Abes on the run. Well, actually, they were chasing him but he was leading them into a trap...that he had no clue where or what it was. He'll figure it out. He has a brush and is in a place with crumbling junk. This won't be hard. Or so he thought until he came up on a Great Wall of China model. Significantly shorter length wise, but waaay too tall for him to jump. There was nothing for him to climb on either. The Abes had him cornered. He wasn't going down without a fight. Not here, not today! Mickey launched waves of thinner and paint. The Abes threw up their arms, choking on the paint and thinner seeping into the tears in the skin. But they weren't thinning. ANd they weren't painting into allies either. They were doused head to toe in two of the most lethal substances in Wasteland, and they looked like irritated cats who got out from a shower they never wanted. They flipped the thinner and paint away, taking sloshing steps toward the mouse. Mickey backed away in dread. Misery was his when he felt his back at the China Wall. He was trapped. Nowhere to go! Nothing but junk, junk, and Abes on three sides. He was doomed. DOOMED, HE TELLS YA! No hope! No friends! No- "Ooh, a cannon!" Mickey saw an old cannon from Fort Wasteland just left precariously at the base of a junk pile. No cannonballs, though. That would be too easy. Thankfully, Mickey had a brush and quick thinking on his side. He loaded the cannon with all the thinner in his brush until it was dripping out the end. Mickey found a plunger lying around plunged it all inside, compacting it deep inside. He pulled a match from his short and struck the wick on the bottom of his shoe. He lit the fuse and covered his ears. The cannon exploded with the ferocity of thunder, rebonding hard and cracking the wall. A shimmering condensed ball of thinner shrieked as it bolted across the yard. It rammed into one of the Abes, leaving nothing but its shoes, and obliterated it against an old, familiar, jalopy of a car. Half of that poor vehicle was caved in. The remain Abe was quaking in his boots, hiding behind a car door he found. He whimpered pleadingly, begging Mickey not to hurt him. Mickey wasn't feeling merciful. He already had a paint cannonball locked, loaded, and that wick was lit. The Abe threw the door into the air, running away screaming. Mickey watched in amusement as it got further and further away. Then the cannon went off. The Abe wasn't able to turn a corner fast enough. It was smashed by the ball, sent hurtling into an iron maiden left precariously open. The impact made the maiden shut on the Abe, and paint came gushing out. Mickey couldn't help shuddering, thanking the spirits of wasteland that his paint wasn't red.

"Is that all of them?!" Oswald asked, hovering in the air.

"For now!" Mickey panted heavily. "That glove is a problem." He snarled.

"No! The power it wields is the problem." Gus jadedly corrected him. Without that glove, Prescott will have nothing to hide behind. "If we can just disconnect the glove from that jar. Cecelia would get her powers back if we smashed it." Easier said than done.

"Ugh...I wish Cecelia was here right now." Mickey moaned disheartened.

"She'll be here when she's ready." Oswald assured him. "She's in a delicate spot right now that could make or break her." If they push too hard there is a significant danger that they will break her. "We need to have faith that she can put her personal feelings aside for the greater good."

"No faith needed there." Gus reassured Oswald, pattng Mickey on the back with a hearty smile. "None at all. She'll come when she's ready."

Mickey had to agree with him. "Yes she will." _I just hope its soon._

"Now let's get after Prescott before more show up!" Gus guided his friends where he saw Prescott take off. Granted, he's able to fly over the walls, leaving Mickey and Oswald at a disadvantage. There was a path that seemed to take them where they would need to go. Gus took the lead while his friends took the long way. They can't lose Prescott now. Not when they are so close. Gus needs to catch up to him. He needs to understand. "Prescott, why? Why would you do this?"

 **xxx**

The lights were doused inside Sparks' Forge. Windows shrouded by black sheets. Orange and red flashes always followed by fizzing popping sounds. Like someone was tickling a motherboard with a conductor pen. _**(don't know what name of device is)**_ His forge was down for the count due to the quake, but he was able to make due and work his formidable magic with a generator he has beneath the floor. Sparks had a welding mask on, going to town on a pair of gloves and a belt brought in by a very adamant Cecelia. Thanks to the mechanics already infused with into the items, Sparks only had to put in a minor bit of his fair work. Mostly it was soldering wiring to a very unique symbol Cecelia had drawn on the tops of the gloves' palms, and on the buckle of the belt. The gaelic symbol for transference. The soldered wire would serve as a conductor, preventing the gloves and belt from being overwhelmed. A smooth transfusion of science and sorcery. This symbol was a special one. In a less flamboyant sense, it's a glorified _sharing_ symbol akin to the same one on her spellbook. A twelve sided pentagram with the transference symbol in the dead center. Symbols for the forces of nature were on the first six points surrounding the center - earth, wind, fire, air, water, quintessence. And on the outer points were symbols for balance, mind, body, soul, emotion, and power. She had to paint it on with a series of chants to activate it. She's never had such a big headache.

"Alright! That should do it!" Sparks announced, flipping the welding mask off. He dabbed a handkerchief to his sweaty forehead, pushing a button on a remote that turned all the lights back on. Cecelia ripped the sheets down, folding them neatly to a table. "These gloves were in pretty good shape considering they've been at the bottom of a trunk for the past year. Real beauties." He whistled wolfishly. He might fall in love. "Can't believe Prescott would just toss them away."

"Yeah, well," She bounced her shoulders indifferently, hiding her swelling resentment, "Prescott tends to throw away a lot of things her considers obsolete without hesitation." The curtness in her murmur had Sparks trembling. By the glow in her eyes, it was for the best - best for his health - that he doesn't ask. "So what do I owe you?" She asked, strapping herself up. She bobbed her head, impressed that it all fit.

"No way! For you, this one's on the house!" He pat her on the shoulder. "Consider it a thanks for helpin' save my butt last year."

Cecelia was in such a funk that she was taken aback by his generosity. Just because Prescott turned out to be a jerk, doesn't mean everyone is. Least of all Sparks. Cecelia kissed him on the cheek, earning a dreamy blush. "I still owe you." She insisted. This level of work - with no guarantee of passing a field test - demands she pay him back anyway she can.

Sparks laughed drunkenly, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. He sure hopes Prescott don't find out. "So...uh...whatcha gonna do with these fancy gizmos?"

Cecelia stroked the emblem on her spellbook, then tapped the symbols on her belt and gloves. They all lit up in a brilliant crimson hue, just like her eyes. She opened and closed her palm, loving the feel of the glove, then kept it in a tight, vengeful ifst. "Take back what's mine."

 **xxx**

"WATCH OUT!" Oswald sent himself flipping in midair as he dodged a boulder of a spiral marble come crashing to a slope.

"WHOA!" Mickey dove into a face full of dirt, able to slide into a crevice in a stone wall. The marble rolled right past him. Blotling that were hiding in the Floatyard weren't as fortunate. It didn't occur to them to break off pursuit when the marble came. Instead they were smashed and stuck to the marble, sent plummeting into a dark pit at the bottom of the slope.

Mickey and Oswald came back onto the slope, releasing breaths of relief. Prescott doesn't do anything halfway, does he?! The entire Floatyard needed to be renamed. Trapland, or Booby-Death-Opolis, or maybe even Watch where you step every dang second because a psychotic gremlin wants to fulfill the full role of mastermind villain...sector. Yeah, that one was too long, but extremely accurate. The Abe clones that attacked them were a walk in the park compared to dodging the deathtraps Prescott set up. Nutcracker Sentinels as tall as the walls dropped their massive jaws, spitting out large fragments of cracked walnuts. From time to time they would drop their lances and rifles they were holding, trying to smash Mickey and Oswald. Oswald's remote was able to generate a shield from the walnuts. Mickey had to show off his sharpshooter skills with that brush and thin out the weapons. A door Mickey and Oswald had to work together to open that unleashed a recoiled punching glove. Had they been in the way...they'd be the new paint on the walls. Oswald almost got flattened when he missed the trip wire at a turn. Mickey walked onto a spring pad that sent him high in the air, over a moon diorama, and landing in a patch of fly paper. Under the flypaper was a massive blowtorch. Oswald was able to peel him off just seconds before he got burned...but not without losing a few cotton strands on his tail. And now they are dodging marbles on a steep slope. They don't know how they made it, but they reached the elevator that took them out of that mess. When they reach Prescott, they are so punching him for the overexertion he's putting them through.

Oswald and Mickey got on either end of the elevato crank and pushed. The old fashioned lift brought them to what was easily described as a Wonderland Garden. The Cheshire Cat's face plastered on the high walls, the painted and non-painted roses of the Red Queen, the White Rabbit as a statue in front of his house with an enlarged Alice trapped inside. And the playing cards lying everywhere with their heads off their shoulders. Oswald always hated Wonderland themed places. Wonderland wasn't that great a place. And the sinister cackling wasn't doing them any favors. "So you've made it this far! I'm impressed." Mickey, Gus, and Oswald shot glasses up to the purple gremlin that was laughing at them. Prescott seemed to think himself high and mighty out of their reach. "But you're too late to stop me now! And soon, all of Wasteland will be mine!" He rubbed his palms together, chuckling lightly. "Follow me, but only if you dare!" He then flew into a maniacal laugh and then darted into the projector atop the house balcony. Now he was being dramatic. He was taking this whole _villain thing_ a little too seriously.

They weren't waiting around for anymore surprises, and they certainly weren't going to waste their energy on the Blotworx lurking around the back of the house. Oswald and Gus grabbed hold of Mickey, taking him to the skies. A red security eye was guarding the door to the projector. If it sees them, it'll shut the door in their faces. Mickey blinded the sucker with a quick splat of thinner. He's in no mood to douse himself in the invisible ink well below. "LET'S GET HIM!" Oswald and Gus darted at top speed through the projector, causing a virulent hurricane that ravaged the world inside it...and left a lot of people very unhappy. One of them threw tub of tomatoes at them. Gus and Oswald were too fast, and Mickey wasn't going to waste his energy on a toss that fell remarkably short. When they reached the end of the projector, Mickey wrenched his whole body down. A tire screech of a sound came from his grounding shoes. Smoke hissed from the soles wearing out on the cold metal floor. He managed to stop, and keep his friends from face planting to the wall, with only inches to spare from a giant, ocular window. The three released held breaths, breaking apart and facing the laboratory they lunged into. No regard for what sort of trap was waiting for them on the other end. They just leapt without looking, and came out in a madman's home. Thicker than thick cables dangling like limp noodles stretching from one end of the high ceilings to the next. The flooring was clearly made of toon. Likely a countermeasure seeing as how there was a curdling vat of thinner five feet beneath it. Those two giant red windows were really creepy. Almost like the eyes of a giant boring into them. It didn't take a lot of brain power for the trio to ascertain where Prescott's base of operations has been centered. Another mad lab for the coming of the next Mad Doctor of Wasteland.

"Oh yes…" A tediously sarcastic sigh came from above them. Gus drew his wrench, Mickey his brush, and Oswald his remote, their crosshairs set dead on the gremlin. Prescott was leisurely lying to an old timey mouse contraption. His head was propped on his knuckles as he regarded the intruded with little to no zeal. "Sometimes I forget how annoyingly heroic you three are. Can't let the _villain_ get away." He mocked with air quotes. Honestly, he can hardly believe he put up with these morons for so long. Playing hero for a land on ingrates and simpletons who can't save themselves from a head cold. "I didn't think you could make it through my defenses." He slipped from the mouse, ogling them irately. "But here you are…" He knew he should have outfitted with them with thinner bombs or something. In the midst of his rancorous reverey, Prescott silently noted that...there was a gap in this group. Normally, there is a bright red eyed, snow white haired cat girl ready to preach about how she refuses to give up, and is ready for a good fight. He bit on the inside of his cheek, miraculously obscuring his disappointment. Not that he should be. He did send her hurtling off a cliff. But...at the same time...was that really enough to stop her? By her absence, he has to surmise so. _Guess she isn't coming back from that fall._

"Prescott!" Gus bellowed contemptuously. "Stop these games this instant!" Prescott sneered at being spoken to like a child. "Why did you sabotage the projectors?! Why did you steal Cecelia's magic?! Why are you doing ANY OF THIS?!" After all of this running around like chickens without their heads, chasing leads that would take them to dead end laced with traps, and luring them through a region under his thrall - Gus feels he deserves that much. Wasteland deserves that much!

"WHY?!" Prescott's voice cracked, his whole body shaking with rage. What an idiotic question with such a ridiculously simple answer. "I can do whatever I want! THAT'S WHY!" Somehow, Gus expected a more mature answer. Prescott wasn't done. "My BRILLIANCE was WASTED in the Gag Factory!" He soared around his brilliant machinations. His particular favorites were the cannons strapped at the ceiling. He knows these imbeciles experienced barely a fraction of his brilliance on their journey to _bring him to justice._ "You wouldn't even listen to my idea to upgrade the projectors!" They witnessed it first hand last year when he was instrumental in bringing down The Blot! BUT NO! Instead of leaving him in charge of building defenses for Wasteland, upgrading the projectors, or even proposes new ways of connecting the cartoon and toon worlds, he was locked away in that infernal Gag Factory to rot with the rest of the obsolete gags. Tossed away like he was trash.

"What about Cecelia?! Why drag her into this?!" Oswald challenged him, hatred spilling from his would like a poison. Prescott paled at the mentioning of her name. His body sank as his thunder died. "Why did you hurt her?!"

Prescott balled his fingers into tight fists, his arms shaking uncontrollably. He can see her clear as day in her mind falling off the cliff, the despair in her eyes at being betrayed by someone who said he loved her. _I didn't want to hurt her!_ That was the truth. But he had no choice. "Cecelia was unfortunate," He placed a palm to one fist, shaking them to suppress an the vice screaming _LIES_ , "But whatever would keep her away had to be done!" He faced the rabbit, eyes glossing with held back tears. "I stole her magic believing it would keep her away! That she'd feel too helpless to come!"

"Boy, did that one backfire!" Mickey rolled his eyes, unable to contain himself from laughing.

"Badly." Prescott snickered adorably. He should have known better. She'd never be so cowardly. "But now…it doesn't matter." He curled his fingers. Bronze streams wiggled from his fingertips, swirling together in a tempermental palm in the middle of his palm. "With both Brush and Magic no one will EVER look down their noses at me again!" He ogled Mickey's brush hungrily. Mickey shielded it behind his back, taking a step away from him. "Behold, my greatest creation!" Prescott flew to the opening floor panels of the lab, howling in maniacal laughter. The cannons on the ceiling unfolded, aiming themselves outward. In a huff of steam, a mouse cannon sprouted from the floor, locked, loaded, and ready to reduce Mickey, Gus, and Oswald to paste. Mickey and Oswald yelped in terror, backing away with their brush and remote held out shakily. "I know he looks cute," Prescott tickled the mouse under the chin. A transparent blonde yellow vine of leaves slithered inside the cannon mouth, veins cracking in the hull, agitating a large something or other inside its belly, "But trust me, you'll want to run in terror now!" Prescott hid somewhere in the ceiling, finding the perfect spot to watch the carnage. Mickey and Oswald almost took his advice. Almost! They steeled their nerves, taking their stances, and squared off to the cannon mouse. Prescott chuckled evilly, and commenced this presumed to be short battle with a snap of his fingers.

The cannon mouse shook, getting its gears into shape. Steam hissed from the tiny holes in its hull. The beady eyes flashed briefly. And, though it was slight, that mouse had a frown aimed right at Oswald and Mickey. The cannon mouse recoiled, shaking like it was on feline haunches. Then with a powerful hiccup a magma infused cannonball was fired at the pair, an inferno of a tail leaving smog in its trail. Mickey and Oswald darted in opposite directions. Searing hot magma regurgitated on impact, eating away at the metal panels. Oswald laughed mockingly, sticking his tongue out at the mouse for missing. A disdainful laugh from Prescott turned his laugh into a whimper. The gremlin wiggled his magical glove at the rabbit, reminding him that he gave the mouse a little touch up before the fight commenced. Animated popping prickled the rabbit's drooping ears. The magma that hadn't cooled on the floor was bubbling fiercely, thin threads of vapors escaping in dog whistles. "UH-OH!" The magma ignited in a blinding yellow light. Oswald flew into the air. The magma exploded, a ring of a shockwave blew him and Mickey aloft, dark grey smoke and metal rocketed into the air. Mickey was able to flip himself to his feet, stopping in a slide. Oswald's stomach hooked to one of the cables, flipping around and leaving him hanging. Both dizzy gaped in awe of the pockmark in the floor. The black smoke from the charred edges mixed with the fumes of the thinner, peeling their skin in terror. That was almost Oswald. The rabbit went to Mickey to get him on his feet. They can't lower their guard for a second. Sweat ran down their brows to their backs hearing the cannon mouse ready another shot. The red crosshairs beeped rapidly, locking on their _**deadmeat**_ targets. The two gulped large lumps. They glanced at each other, then took off. The cannon mouse launched cannonball after cannonball, blindly aiming wherever Mickey and Oswald ran.

Oswald took to the air, circling the lab in a black and blur blur, tripping up the mouse cannon in anyway possible. The _state of the art_ targeting system it employed wasn't able to lock onto a bunny that can fly in burst of speeding light. Streams of electricity he unleashed coiled to and diverted the cannonballs to other targets. Usually the walls, a furnace in the corner, and Oswald every so often tossed one at Prescott. The purple gremlin was unphased by the boorish redirects. He swept his hand. A fist made up of moisture collided with the ball mere inches before the heat has a chance to tickle his face. Oswald's whole body drooped with dread as the ball came hurtling towards him. He threw himself into a sharpy dive. The ball exploded on the corner of the wall and ceiling. The blast bashed into his back. The shockwave knocking him to the floor, and sprinkles of magma touching his skin. He rolled around vehemently, getting it off before it burned to his bones. Mickey, running beyond the extent his little legs could move, sprayed paint, thinner, and by pure accident a combination of the two. He made the mistake of standing his ground to one of the cannonballs, pouring on a tsunami of paint to cool it. The cannonball burned the paint right to the bristles into charcoal. Mickey yelped an dove out of the way, escaping the vomiting of magma, but not that shockwave. The outburst of untouchable energy was steadily gaining a solid form. It struck Mickey in the back, nearly robbing him of all his breath. Mickey bounced on his stomach, shivering at the impact, but got back up and thought against standing up to an unstoppable force. He sprayed the next one with thinner. The cannonball soaked it up like a sponge. And it when it exploded, it left a gaping hole as usual, but the thinner it soaked in became an acid that ate both the toon and metal. Mickey used a different approach and sprayed the mouse cannon itself, only to be met with the same disappointing results. And they were running out of floor. The sound of thunder pounded in their ears at each launch of a cannonball. The searing hot magma spattering to the cold floor hissed. In the instant of the blinding light it radiated, a shockwave would flood the lab, rattling the walls, gears, and the very skeleton of Prescott's lair, and a cloud of smoke would engulf a section as a gaping hole would rip to the thinner pool awaiting its next victim below.

Mickey and Oswald forgot that they were running for their lives for a moment to gape in awe of the smoke riddled holes closed up, zipping themselves pristine as if nothing ravaged them. Another aspect of the spell he put on the cannonballs, no doubt. No, wait. Mickey and Oswald studied the healing floor more closely. The charred marks remained, it was just the floor itself that closed up. And it was coming from the toon paneling. Dread flooded Mickey and Oswald's veins. They tapped their toes, gaping in shock. Gleaming glyphs resonated with their steps. Prescott infused magic to the panels. Mickey and Oswald looked around the whole lab, fearing that they've been lead into a hornet's nest of magical entrapments. Prescott sure did have a long range of time on his hands. To have become so versed in magic in such a short amount of time. They knew Prescott had Cecelia's spellbook this whole time. How did they not think he wouldn't study it? And, in all likelihood, Cecelia taught him some. But, one thing was clear - much like their goal. That jar is the sole reason he can use magic. Once it's gone, he's back to being easily punchable. Until they figure out how to do that, though, they need to keep running. That cannon mouse wasn't finished with them.

"Oh this is so much fun!" Prescott rolled around laughing, slapping his knees. He wishes he had popcorn and soda to tie it all together. "And it will get even better when they've-AH!" A wrenched breezed inches over his head, impaling a tank near his head.

"My apologies!" Gus declared, unsheathing two wrenches from behind his back. "But your fun is over, Prescott!" He glared heatedly, twirling the wrenches like blades..

"OVER?! I beg to differ, old man!" Prescott's glove was coated in silver. A rippling line extended with a sweep of his hand. He grasped onto the line. A wrench inflated in his hand. He xtended it like a rapier. "It's only just beginning!"

Gus charged with a loud roar. Prescott braced himself, fortifying a stance to the cannon. Gus swung the first wrench. The ringing that shrieked as Prescott parried the blow vibrated ferociously back into Gus's arm. He came around with the second wrench, Prescott met it swiftly and fiercely, batting the wrench aside. Sparks rained in different directions, igniting the malice in Prescott's grinning eyes and the hurt in Gus's. Prescott separated himself from the cannon, meeting Gus on equal footing in the air. Gus came at him with such heated strikes, going high and low for known weak spots only privy to Gremlins. Prescott kept one hand behind his back, deflecting every strike with little effort. Or so he would have Gus think. Prescott would dodge and weave past the blow, thrusting the wrench in response. Gus was able to parry his blows, and counter with a second blow. Prescott's arm rang in pain, his bones vibrating. His grip was weakening gradually. Keeping up with Gus was going to be harder than he thought. The old man was fast with his strikes and counterstrikes, precise with his thrusts, and scarily accurate in his aiming for critical points. Gus was panting and heaving as if he were getting exhausted. But it was not so. Because of the anger boling his blood, he was running on fumes that he didn't possess to expend.

Gus swung both wrenches at once. Prescott raised his wrench to deflect it. His block was successful, but Gus possessed strength he wasn't prepared for and was sent flying into a webbing of cables. Wasteland was recovering...and he rattled it to its core, making it crumble. Gus charged with both wrenches extended. Prescott easily slipped form the cable, pushing himself straight into the air. Gus's wrenches became stuck in the wall. He grit his teeth. Prescott came barreling down, spinning like a drill with his wrench extended. Gus kicked back off the wrenches. Prescott breezed by him. His own wrench knocked Gus's free, catapulting them in the air. Gus caught his wrenches, bringing them down upon Prescott's head. The younger gremlin proved to be fast, stretching his wrench behind his back to stop one wrench, and twisted himself to catch the second with his bare hand. It was a grudging deadlock, electricity surging between their glares.

"I can't believe you would use Cecelia's magic for harm when you worked so hard to get it back from The Blot!" Gus frothed at the mouth.

Prescott grit his teeth, shifting around to meet Gus eye to eye. "I never meant to cause any harm! I just needed her to stay home!" He pushed his weight into him, making his feet drag back.

"You knew better than that!" Gus howled at the top his lungs. "She's not a coward!"

Prescott twisted with disgust! "I thought she was sensible! Not a coward!" How dare he put words in his mouth.

"Then you truly don't know her at all!" Gus fumed. "Her magic - a great power she feared for years - was stolen!" He spat the last word, wanting Prescott to see the dilemma he completely ignored. "Did you really think she'd sit by and let anyone wield it?" Prescott grimaced, his insides corroding. No, of course he didn't think she'd sit idly by. He just...hoped she'd remain back. Stay out of danger from having almost died...so that she'd never see what he became. And now...he will have to live with this regret. "It's not too late, Prescott. If you stop now, we can fix things." Gus begged him.

Prescott's shoulders quaked, steadily bouncing rapidly. Tiny nosies escaped Prescott, escalating into a crazed laugh. "See, this is where Cecelia and I will agree." His laugh died instantly, a cancerous glare sending ice down Gus's spine. "Once something is broken…" Uncontrollable whips of white-blue electricity swam up his wrench. His pupils constricted to dots. "IT CAN NEVER BE FIXED!" A flash of pent up energy sparked between the deadlocked wrenches. Prescott poured all of his might into one solid swipe. Electricity slithered into Gus's body. He wailed in pain, falling to his knees. The wrenches fell from his hands. Prescott dealt a sharp uppercut into his stomach. The blow knocked him into the air, and knocked the wind from his lungs. Prescott drew his gloved hand back, the symbol of _**strength**_ drawing on the palm. He smashed it to Gus's ribs and a devastating pulse launched him. Gus went soaring in the blink of an eye, being shot out the crimson red window.

"GUS!" Mickey and Oswald cried.

The cannon mouse was locked and loaded, taking aim swiftly. Mickey and Oswald got ready to dodge. "HOLD IT!" Prescott commanded, freezing Mickey and Oswald stiff in a blue coating. He chuckled triumphantly, guiding his captives to the next window. "Ready, aim, FIRE!" He ordered his cannon. If Mickey and Oswald were able to move they would have been shaking. The cannon mouse didn't waste a single second and fired. Mickey and Oswald were hit. The twin explosions spat them with such ferocity that they whistled through the air like shooting stars, sent outside into a ashened sky. Oswald crashed hard into a solid metal floor, caving the ground like a crater. Mickey was launched past him, sent colliding with a barely conscious Gus. Prescott met them outside, watching them writhe on the ground like maggots. He cackled victoriously, smirking as two large slabs flipped open on massive hinges. A blaze erupted from the pit within. Spikes as large as Dark Beauty Castle's spire roofs riddled the underside of the slabs. From the firey pit rose a monstrosity.

Gus groaned as he stirred, his movement bringin Mickey back to life. Oswald rubbed his throbbing head, his blurred vision clearing as shock awoke him. Behind Prescott rose a castle with clanky arms, a head resembling him serving as the portcullis. Spouts of fire roared from the castle towers. The castle Prescott laughed gutteraly, waving at the quaking trio. "We...we were in that thing's head the whole time?!" He gasped. Mickey and Gus suddenly felt a little sick.

"Do you FOOLS get it yet?!" Prescott snarled hatefully. He shot his gloved hand to the sky. The darkened clouds of ash pieced away, twisting into large stalagmites. "THIS IS MY REVENGE!" He threw his hand out, the stalagmites tearing the air to ribbons. Oswald and the others curled into tight balls. The stalagmites impaled the ground around them, tearing deep holes. "NONE OF YOU WILL RUIN IT FOR ME!" Oswald got s sick of hearing him speak that he used one of the shards and prematurely launched an electrified webbing at him. Prescott scrambled sideways, gawking at the webbing clinging to his creation's nose. It shocked it, but it just tore it off and scratched his nose. Oswald swallowed a nervous lump. He might as well have attacked that thing with a mosquito! "You…!" Prescott's disdain dripped like a venom. Oswald growled in his throat, aiming his remote again. Prescott snapped his fingers. A vicious pop came at his palm. He yelped in shock, and his remote was bounced into the air, sending it skipping out of his reach. "You irritating nuisance!" The metal beneath his peeled back, stretching and twisting. They coiled to Oswald's limbs strapping his spread eagle to the floor.

"OSWALD!" Mickey rolled onto his feet. Splitting pain stabbed in his side, dropping him. Gus saved him from hitting the floor, then gaped in horror. Mickey took a harder hit from the blast than Oswald. There was a gash in his side. It didn't look good. Gus seethed as he cradled Mickey, cursing himself as Prescott moved toward his other helpless friend.

Oswald struggled in vain to free himself. Prescott hovered directly over him, taking pride in his defiant glare. "Oswald the Lucky Rabbit - King of Wasteland, leader of the people, and the very symbol of justice in this Forgotten Land." What superficial titles that have been given to massage this speck's ego. "Wasteland will be upside down and on its hind without you. And without Mickey or Gus..." He purred, opening his palm. Blossoms of pin needles materialized. Their blazing red and blue pines left Oswald in despair, "They will have no hope left to fight. Ever again." Oswald clung to his last ounces of defiance, refusing to let Prescott see him squirm. Deep down he was praying with all his soul that somehow he would break free. That some sort of miracle will come at the last second. _I know you're out there. Hurry!_ Prescot grinned sinisterly, ready to cease this little game. "Long live the new King of Wasteland!" Oswald closed his eyes, bowing his head. _You're pulling it close!_ To think it would end like this. _CECELIA!_ He cried.

" _FULMENOS VENITE!"_ Prescott and Oswald's heads snapped to the side, their eyes widening with a harrowing light. A barrel of blue-white lightning electrified the area in a blinding light. The very air itself was sundered, the arena clambering in its vicious velocity. Glaring tendrils of sparks coiled to Oswald, the rampant energy consuming his insides in a vibrating shock. The barrel itself ran over Prescott, swallowing him whole. The head of the barrel collided with a wall of the arena, caving the acclaimed indestructible metal alloy. The body whipped in a spasm, like an eel trapped in its burrow. It didn't seem to have an end. This storm of pure, fierce electricity draws by on the very air, drilling passionately into reducing the gremlin it absorbed into nothing but ash. The barrel coiled tautly, collapsing into itself. It inflated like a balloon, then burst into a blinding flash. Thousands of sparkling puffs of electricity sprinkling like falling snow, fizzling into nothingness. Static lunges in the air, making the marrow in everyone's bones buzz like a beehive. Stray streams swam about the arena, diving into the plates and into the magma.

What should have astonished the rescued Oswald and winded Mickey and Gus was the saving grace of that out of the blue attack. Instead their jaws were dropped, and their eyes nearly falling out of their sockets out of beyond comprehension disbelief...at the aura rippling shield curved. Behind that shield, not even a scratch on him...was Prescott. The shield generated from his glove, fed by the magic trapped in that jar. He released a breath of relief, laughing at that close call. Their heads shook. It was impossible. Nothing should have survived that. Yet there he was...every single charred scar that should have ravaged him was on that shield. Yes, it crumbled from the trauma, but that malignant gremlin still had three more winds to fight. However, he wasn't unleashed entirely. He was pale with terror on where that blast came from. "And here I thought you were gone for good, Cecelia." He trailed a malignant glare up, praying he obscured the partial fear...and relief he felt. Cecelia hovered above the arena. Her arms and legs folded in a strong barrier. An unwavering frown twisted her normally soft cheeks. Blue and white trickling of electricity rolled down her ears and out her frizzy hair. A storm brewed in her eyes. There she was...in a splendor that quickened the vacant space of Prescott's chest. Were it not that he screwed up all his chances, he would confess to falling in love all over again. Her parted sleeves had been sheathed with smaller sized gauntlets similar to Prescott's. Smaller than his, maybe, but still adorably big on her little arms. Her adult size would have fit them better. At her slender waist was what used to be a utility belt. She removed the extra pockets and pouches, creating a stringy satchel for her spellbook. Prescott braced himself, recognizing that look all too well. She did not come to reason. She came for retribution.

"Cecelia…" Mickey dropped to his stomach. He can hardly believe it. She came back...just in time. Oswald and Gus gazed upon her like she was an angel sent by heaven itself.

"I see you found my prototype power suit set." Prescott scoffed.

"Found them in that trunk of yours." She sneered, flicking at the arm braces. "Had to do a little tweaking, though.

Cecelia lowered herself into the arena, walking casually to a star struck Oswald. She offered him a hand up with a smile. "You guys alright?"

Oswald smiled back. He slapped his palm into hers, rising to his feet. "Now we are." He threw himself into a hug, squeezing her tight. Cecelia was a little startled, but inevitably relaxed and hugged him back. Gus supported Mickey, meandering carefully to their friends. Their cheeks were plastered with enormous smiles. "Glad to have you back."

"It's good to be back." She hummed. Now...it was time to end this.

 **To be continued**


	23. The Curtain Falls

**The Curtain Falls**

 **Moving on**

 **xxx**

It goes without saying - Prescott certainly had a lot of time on his hand. The amount of effort he poured into bringing his machination to their full fruition from simple drawings on pieces of blue paper. They are causes indiscriminate amount of harm - a true blemish to the oath of doing no harm as most mechanics and engineers swear to. But it cannot be ignored that the true spirit and resolve Prescott has for his creations was showing. In both brilliance and destruction, this arena and the monster lurking within are marvels of his science. Which will make it all the more delicious when It's all brought crumbling down.

Cecelia placed a tender palm to the heads of her friends. Releasing a tranquil breath spread a blue ripple air and mist to her gloves. The mist was like dozens of seeds that planted themselves, causing green, transparent vines to coil down her wrists. The vines wrapped to the crowns of Oswald, Mickey, and Gus. Leaves sprouted, bringing with them ivory flowers. The pollen sprayed out, sprinkling to their battered bodies. Cuts, bruises, and sores healed instantly. A pleasant icy hot sensation massaged their bodies, reinvigorating their stamina for another round. And it gave them little chills. Kinda got them to laugh.

"Better?" She smiles softly.

"Much," Mickey panted, "Now that you're -LOOK OUT!" Darts of ice came in a hailstorm for her. Cecelia knit her brow, able to feel the frigid disdain captured within. She spun on her heels, crossing her wrists. A shield grew, saving her and her friends. The shards dispersed into innocuous snowflakes, piling into a trail at their feet. Patches of ice covered the shield in a sheet, but it was holding with no signs of wavering. As the darts died down, Cecelia lowered the shield, locking disgusted dagger filled eyes with an impassively glowering Prescott. That irritating single finger he used to try and strike her with her back turned brought a foul taste to her mouth. "That was close. And pretty strong compared to earlier." He added bewildered.

"Indeed!" Gus applauded her. He surmised it was the gloves giving her this boost. And he didn't miss that her spell book's symbol was on the gloves. "You're transferring power from the book into those gloves, aren't you? Indirectly touching your book to draw power." Her proud smirk told Gus he was right in the nose. He guffawed in victory. Maybe he can excel at magic too. "Quite clever of you, my dear!"

"Yes…" Prescott mewled indifferently, rolling his eyes resentfully. He floated closer to them, still remaining high enough to cling to the upper hand he was clinging to. "Clever indeed." He tilted his head, ignoring the glares coming from the mouse, rabbit, and codger, and scathingly studied the new equipment Cecelia was sporting. "Is that my spare glove set?"

"With my own adjustments!" She clutches at the forearm. Her curled fingers ushered a searing mirage. Her eyes glistening like pristine rubies. A half smirk cracked on Prescott's lips. He was trying not to succumb to the shiver running along his skin. _There she is._ That look in her eyes that could cut through solid steel, her unwavering stance in the face of unbeatable odds, the aura that gathers around like she were a god amongst mortals - this is her. _This is my Cecelia._ He should be terrified, or even sick to his stomach, that she would return with a lust for blood. His blood. Instead, he was so excited he could barely contain himself. Cecelia, on the other hand, wasn't the least bit excited for this. If anything...she was outright pissed it's come to this. "You've had your fun, Prescott! Give me back my powers!" She demanded.

Prescott's zeal immediately curdled to disgust. He growled through gritted teeth. "You can't tell me what to do! NO ONE CAN!" He swung his arm fiercely, a vortex of wind roaring around him. He touched the jar at his hip. "I have the magic now! And soon I will have the brush!" Mickey wrapped his arms protectively to his brush. "Wasteland will fall to its knees before me!" He declared like the warmonger he is trying to become. "I will succeed where The Blot and Mad Doctor failed time and time again!"

This was churning Cecelia's stomach. "I've heard enough!" She barked. Blue and white sparks that hissed from the corners of her eyes, shading to a malevolent pink and purple. "You're so arrogant that you truly believe you're worthy to have my powers, or Mickey's brush!" He must be trying to make her laugh because this is a joke! "Prescott, I lavished in proving what a fool you were the first time we met!" A gust of air at her shoes lifted her into the air. She hover across from Prescott, spreading her glowing hands like wings. She grinned menacingly. "Now I'm going to get a second dosage bringing you to your knees before me!"

"And how do you plan to do that?!" He knit his brow at her posturing.

"By stopping you with everything I have!"

"I have EVERYTHING YOU HAVE in the palm of my hand, Love. You don't stand a chance." He chuckled.

"You have the power, not the knowledge!" He of all people should know that. "And having my book for a short year doesn't make you a Sorcery Genius!"

"Oh, and you are?!" He challenged.

She touched her fingertips together. "Let me show you!" She spread her hands. Glittering webs unraveled in layers of coils above her head, falling collectively down her form. She locked gazes with Prescott, snaring him in her trap. " _VICIS VERTO!_ " **(** _ **Place swap**_ **)** Pulses radiated from her glare, barreling into Prescott.

Prescott winced feeling his insides constricted on themselves. His breath was stopped viciously for a fifth of a second. When he opened his eyes again, he gasped in terror as he saw the webs Cecelia conjured falling around him…and she was across the way. She smirked with her wrists crossed, the threads still connected to her fingertips. "NO!"

"YEP!" Cecelia swung her arms around. The webbing snapped to Prescott head to toe, cutting into his jumpsuit like metal strings. His skin bulged like welts, patches threatening to pop as they tightened.

Prescott managed a leer past the webs, really wishing he could slap that whole smug expression from her face. _I know you ploy!_ He hissed mentally. She can't make him budge. _You plan to electrocute me, or use these webs of yours as a conduit of some sort!_ He internally smirked. A symbol traced itself to his glove. _Well I'm ready! COME ON!_ The second she tries something, he'll just redirect it back at her. "DO YOUR WORST!" He dared her.

Challenge accepted. She flipped backwards into a dive, using her calf to pull at the webbing. Prescott dug in his heels, wrenching back. He was surprised by her tactic, but such a boorish ploy won't win her this fight. Cecelia knew he would be stubborn, and she knows she loses to him in body mass. And she would disappoint Gus if she forgot his lecture on _being creative._ _Time for a little surprise._ She flipped her body again, stretching her leg fully a she came close to the ground. Halfway on her next flip a trigram spanned from the sole of her shoe. It braced her weight like a solid wall and she pushed off, launching like a rocket right beneath Prescott. He gasped in shock at her speed. He was enamoured by how she was engulfed in a light. Like she was a star. She was looking straight up at him as she formed another trigram. Her snicker made his quiver. He doesn't know how she did this, but it will force him to be on his toes from here on out. Within the split seconds she had before connecting with the trigram for a safe ricochet, she snapped her fingers and dispelled the webbing. " _VICIS VERTO!_ " Prescott was filled with dread as he was forcibly swapped with Cecelia. She was safe in mid air, her legs seeming to be running on nothing. Meanwhile Prescott, sucked violently into the throes of Cecelia's previous velocity like a vacuum. He crashed through the trigram like a grass window, skipping painfully on the uneven arena floor. He slid to a stop on his face, trembling with bruises and scrapes throbbing mercilessly. He deflated with a groan. Cecelia gently touched to the ground, releasing a huff of breath with a hand to her chest. Then she laughed with a slight craze in her eye. The adrenaline rushing through her veins was exhilarating.

"Whoa…" Gus, Mickey, and Oswald were rooted in awe. The Prescott castle was dumbstruck as well. They blinked and this stream of blurs left Prescott floored. Right then and there they questioned if Cecelia really lost a majority of her magic. Because that was more amazing than when she fought The Blot.

Spasms revitalized Prescott. His hands and knees slid under him. He took in a dry heave of a breath as he pushed up. He flew into a coughing fit, sitting to one knees. He wiped the dirt from his cheek, growling in the back of his throat. He was too cocky. He let his guard down thinking she didn't have any other sort of tricks up her sleeve. Not with 90% of her magic in his pocket. A jar, actually. But that's a nuance. Then she goes and pulls that stunt. A nearly flawless sleight of hand trick with acrobatics he forgot she possesses. She rarely shows it off. He scoffed derisively at himself. "She has been at this longer than I have."

"I may not have ALL of my magic," Cecelia stretched out, pretending as if what she accomplished was nothing, "But a wise man once told me to get creative to compensate." Gus smiled proudly. He was that wise man. "If that was all it took to level you," Cecelia approached him with an uncharacteristically scary frown. She held out her hand, "I will take my magic back now."

Prescott spat in revulsion. That's he deciding without wavering that he is utterly unworthy of it. And he accused himself of being arrogant. Claiming victory before the fight has had a chance to start. "Very well. If that is how you wish to be!" He rumbled ominously. He whipped around, pointing at his monstrosity. "YOU!" The Prescott castle jumped out of its bolts, clumsily snapping to attention. "Deal with those pests below! I'll handle the stray here!" The castle grunted a _YES SIR_ , and locked its sights with Mickey, Gus, and Oswald, it roared.

"That's right! Dang, I spaced!" Oswald cursed himself, charging his remote.

"Here it comes!" Mickey spun his brush, ready with the thinner. They were so mesmerized by Cecelia that they ignored the mechanical monster in front of them.

"Be careful of the cannonballs!" Gus got ready with another wrench. "Let us show this beast the what for!"

Mickey and Oswald were pumped. They were going to pull out of this no problem. The castle opened its massive jaws. The turret from earlier was at the helm, trapping the trio in its crosshairs. The first shot was launched. Mickey, Gus, and Oswald split off in different directions, loving that they finally had the elbow room to elude Prescott's monstorities. The advantage might be slowly trickling into their favor. The turret showed no signs of relenting as it launched cannonball after cannonball. With the arena space working with them, Mickey, Gus, and Oswald were able to push their agility to its maximum. Oswald and Gus relied on flying to evade the bombardment. Oswald dove, barrel rolled, and flew in loops. Gus was spinning, jerking side to side like a hummingbird, and often floating just out of reach. Mickey had no choice but the stay low, but he wasn't hindered. He was flipped wildly, strafing side to side, glaring the cannonballs down as if daring them to hit him. Anyone else under this merciless barrage would accuse the mouse cannon of having the most sinister scowl on its placid metal face. Taking a sick joy in firing the projectiles in hopes of melting flesh from bones, or blowing the bodies into smithereens. In Mickey, Oswald, and Gus's case, they were certain that glare was due to the fact that it was missing. A lot, actually. The mouse would fire two cannonballs at a time only to miss every time. While Mickey and Oswald were having a good time getting that mouse to use up its ammo - whenever that would happen - Gus knew this would go nowhere fast if they kept on like this. That castle and turret are running on a never ending supply of power that they can't gain access to. Mickey and Oswald will tire while that Castle keeps on attacking.

Cecelia glanced to her friends, unnerved by how close the barrage of cannonballs came to hitting them. She knows they can handle this...but still. "AND JUST WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE LOOKING!" Prescott dug his gloved palm in deep, clawing the air as he swept it back up. A tidal wave of air mixed with the noxious fumes wafting from the firey pit. Metal shavings and dust got swept up in it. The wave climbed high, curving as it loomed over Cecelia. She dropped to one knee, crossing her arms above her head. The deceiving wave of hot fumes crashed mercilessly upon her, making the arena quake around her. A swirling dome diverted the wave around her, leaving her untouched. If not a little sweaty. She gasped in dismay as Prescott appeared over her, slamming the full brunt of his palm to the dome. His eyes were glimmering with rage. Hot breath roaring from his lips with flakes of fire exhausting. A pulse injected into the shield. Fervent vibrations made it split and crack. Cecelia was bracing herself for him breaking in that she never saw the black hole opening beneath her. She fell through with a scream. Prescott cackled darkly, closing the hole with a flourish of his hand and opening five more. Cecelia was sent perpetually flying into all of them, picking up speed each time she emerged. She flailed in a tantrum to stop herself. She would claw for the edges of the holes. Conjure a current around her to slow down. It was all in vain. The increasing speed was making her too nauseous to focus. Prescott shot her with fireballs, ice shards, bolts of lightning, razor leaves, and crescent blades of wind. A few would miss. Others would either knick her here and there, or hit her dead on. The pot shots did nothing to slow her momentum, or threw her off in her trajectory. Prescott was getting a sick thrill off of turning the tables. He wasn't too proud of it, but it was his only method to further prove that he is beyond her. Beyond everyone. Prescott decided to play on a little trick she did just seconds ago and tethered a thread to her. Now when she was sent through the holes, she would become more and more entangled. Making it all the more harder for her to retaliate. With a snap of his fingers he ended her rollercoaster, snaring her spread eagle in a webbing stretched by the black holes. Cecelia groaned dizzily. Everything was spinning. She felt like she was going to vomit. She didn't have a second to regain her senses. Prescott drilled a fist into her stomach. The force within causing searing white pain throughout her abdomen. Her muscles and bones felt like they splintered. Cecelia coughed up blood and saliva, her eyes consumed in shattering dread. The webs tore from her limbs and she was sent hurtling into Gus as he dodged a cannonball. Gus groaned in pain. Meanwhile, unknown to either him or Prescott, a smile was creeping to Cecelia's lips. _And so it begins._

"GUS!" Mickey cried.

"Cecelia!" Oswald howled. The two rushed over, propping the two up to a sitting position. "You both alright?"

"We feel fine." Gus spoke for both of them. Cecelia gave an affirmative thumbs up.

"Not for much longer, you are." Prescott boasted. He snapped his fingers. The Castle extended itself past the barbed wall barring it from leaving its fiery pit. It widened its mouth, swallowing the mouse turret into its throat and replacing it with a huge fan. The fan revved, spinning counterclockwise. Baffled brows quirked from the group, wondering what sort of damage a fan could do. Think they would know better than to question what madness Prescott is capable of. NOPE! The fan spun faster and faster, a torrent of wind and scraps flying toward it. Oswald smoothed his ears back, and Cecelia tucked her hair behind her ears. The wind was getting stronger. Mickey and Gus deadpanned feeling their shoes sliding. They leaned back, skipping backwards in a fight against the breeze. Oswald and Cecelia fortified their stances, digging in their heels. Prescott laughed at their pitiful fight and kicked his monstrosity. In a split second it jumped to full power. Gus screamed as he was ripped right off the ground, flipped for a shredding demise.

"GUS! GRAB ON!" Cecelia swung her arm, flinging a rope growing from two of her fingers. Gus grabbed hold, and Cecelia twisted her feet. He feet were molded into holdings in the panels. Gus was like a gremlin kite.

Mickey and Oswald paddled at the floor, pouring their weight to resist the wind. Oswald spun his ears to give him an extra foot hold. It worked against him and he was leaving the floor. "I'VE GOT YA!" Mickey staked his brush and grabbed Oswald by the wrist. Oswald and Gus hung on for their lives.

The castle braced itself, lunging back and forth to increase its current. Cecelia and Mickey fought their hardest. The brush was tearing a trench as Mickey held on. Cecelia's metal booting was starting to tear away. "Come closer, I just want to say HELLO!" Prescott mockingly cooed, laughing out loud and slapping his knees.

Cecelia hissed through gritted teeth. She locked gazes with Gus. He nodded firmly, ready when she was. He drew his wrench. Cecelia shifted her stance and freed her feet, kicking off as hard as she could. The two were swept up in the wind, Mickey and Oswald's cries for them carried to their ears. "HIII THERREE!" Cecelia gathered a burst of wind at her back, using it to push her right out of the clutches of the current and gifting Prescott a swift punch in that smug face of his. Gus diverted for the castle fan, his wrench extended like a sword. He threw it like a javelin. The wrench embedded itself in the blade. It was torn to smithereens, but the blades were bent beyond repair, bringing that wind to a dead halt. Mickey and Prescott belly flopped to the floor. Cecelia landed with feral precision to the metal flooring. A hollow clang at her feet was music to her ears. They flicked as she knocked a couple more times. It was hollow beneath her alright. And there was a hydraulic humming inside it. _Knew it!_ There's power feeding into this place. A place this big, a monster like that castle, Prescott had to have built numerous generators. From the blueprints she snuck a peek at before going to Jamface, there should be four. Prescott may be good at mechanics, but he's terrible at hiding his plans. And they would be his undoing. " _Epoto..._ " She whispered under her breath. A light was muffled beneath her palm. She lifted it slowly to let a script fade. _That's one._ "HM!" She sprang back. A flurry of flames burned at the panel, missing her by a mile. As the flames dissipated, an orange glow slithered inside the panel, making Cecelia smile yet again. "You never were able to hit the side of a barn to save your life." She mocked him.

"And you never possessed the intelligence to save yours!" He spat back. He swept his hand up and over. Six yellow discs spanned. High pitched squealing was shrill to the ear. The one vertical to the floor slice with ease into the metal like it was melted butter. Cecelia summoned shields to her gloves, ready for whatever Prescott was going to throw at her.

Mickey and Oswald, on the other hand, grew tired of running. Oswald lashed out with bursts of electricity, hitting at the castle's nose and eyes - anywhere that looked like it would hurt this monster. Mickey went after the toon he saw that made up the head. He thinned it to the machinery hiding within. Now if they could just damage it. "THE CANNONBALLS!" Gus blurted, reading his mind. "Knock back the cannonballs! That should work!" Mickey and Oswald nodded to one another. The extra punch those cannonballs packed will make their lives easier. That is if the Castle will bring the turret back instead of throwing massive handfuls of trash at them. The clumps were tossed high into the air and come crashing down wherever Mickey and Oswald stood. One bushel was sliced clean in half form one of the discs Prescott was throwing. The two halves went for Mickey and Oswald. The two launched paint and electricity, throwing the halves off their targets and leaving them crashing to pieces. Their attention was returned to the castle right as the turret came back into play. It fired its cannonballs. Mickey and Oswald squared themselves. The cannonballs were just feet away. The two leapt high and connected well timed spin kicks, that sent the cannonball right back to their owner. The castle tried to move out of the way. The cannonball exploded right where Mickey thinned the toon. It howled in agony of the magma cooking its machinery. Its body jerked violently as the secondary blast blew holes in it. "GOOD SHOW!" Gus cheered.

Prescott flailed his arms, letting the discs fly indiscriminately while pretending he was aiming for the kitten laughing at his failed attacks. With each disc that was launched, another would replaced it, loading Prescott with more ammo. Their features would change slightly on each one. One got blades, the other turned blue, another split in half into boomerangs. That one didn't hurtling right back to Prescott. It just got stuck in the floor and disintegrated. But let it be known that every time he missed he was growing steadily more frustrated, causing his aim to suffer, the discs to change even their shape, and giving Cecelia more of an advantage. "HOLD STILL, YOU FOOL! LET IT BE QUICK!"

Cecelia kept to the low ground, her focus completely centered on Prescott. She lavished in that temper of his getting the best of him. His aim was the worst when he starts lashing out in a blind rage. She back sprang off her hands, wheeling in a series of flips to increase the distance. Somersaulting and cartwheeling right at the second palm or foot touched down. She'd found a second panel, the same humming tickling her palm. " _Epoto!_ " The same scripture from before phased into the metal. She sprang out of the way of another disc. The breeze at her ankle brought ice to her spine. But she wasn't done. She toyed with Prescott, letting him exhaust himself instead of the other way around. Getting creative, remember. She'd counter with the shields at her wrists, redirecting Prescott's own discs back at him. He'd weave by them, sending out three at a time. Cecelia copied his black hole technique and swallowed the discs in three different ones. She melded them into one and launched an enormous disc right back at him. Prescott dove down. The disc sliced clean through the cliffs on one side. Prescott despised how pleased she was with herself. Cecelia fed on his rage, all the while putting a second script on a third panel. _Just one more._ "Is that the best you've got?!" She taunted him.

"NOT EVEN CLOSE!" Prescott roared. He didn't get the chance to prove her wrong. A gutteral metallic roar sank his chest into his stomach. Mickey had completely thinned the toon from the machine. Oswald kicked three more cannonballs right back at it. One landed in the mouth, destroying the turret. The castle was tossed about, rebound by each blast mercilessly. The numerous smoking holes in its body caused Prescott's machine to waver. It was barely able to keep its head above water. Fire, in this case. "NO! MY CREATION!" Prescott wailed.

"MICKEY! OSWALD!" Cecelia conjured a large cannonball that came with a wick. She set it up in the air for them, lighting the wick. Mickey and Oswald jumped together, unleashing two pronged spinning kicks. The ball was launched right into the machine's mouth, straight down the throat. It swallowed and choked, already dreading keeping its big mouth opened. With a deep gutted _UH-OH_ , the machine had its head blown right off, collapsing the rest of its body into the fiery pit. The stone slabs closed it up, trapping that monstrosity in a tomb.

"NO!" Prescott snarled. His most engenius of creations destroyed by two rodents and their friends. "GRRAAAH!" He plunged to the ground, slamming a fist to the metal flooring. Cecelia gaped in dismay. The ground beneath her rumbled. A geyser of hot steam shot her flipping into the air. Prescott appeared at the peak of her launch. He held out his hand. A turquoise racket grew in his hand. "30-LOVE!" He swatted her like the bug she was. The connecting net packed a high voltage punch. She crashed landed like a comet, a cloud of dust erupting across the arena. When it cleared, Cecelia was writhing in agony in a crater. At her back was a gelantonouys brown mold that cushioned her fall. But she would still be feeling that tomorrow. "Well, well, Cecelia," Prescott loomed over her mockingly. Gus, Mickey, and Oswald gathered around her protectively. "It seems I am a genius with magic after all." He stroked a thumb to his cheek, rather proud of himself.

"Are you?" Cecelia choked as she sat up on her hands. She crawled out of the hole, thanking the boys for helping her out. She grinned triumphantly at him, taking a knee to catch her second wind. "Because it looks to me like you just gave me my first foothold!" Prescott frothed at the mouth, getting really sick of her abundance of confidence. She needs to realize that she won't always come out on top because she believes in herself and others! Sometimes, people just let you down! Your own strength is not enough! He will teach her that here and now. Prescott drew a tightly balled fist back. A blue fire engulfed the fist, the flames flaring out of control. With this strike he will reduce her to nothing. Gus, Mickey, and Oswald, unable to get to her, braced themselves for the impact. While at the same time...they were really frightened that she was smiling. Prescott thrust his fist with all his might. The flame slipped from the hand…then snuffed out like a weak candle. A little raspberry added insult to injury.

Silence...that's all there was for the longest time. A hollow wind blowing through the disappointedly anticlimactic lash out. Prescott was frozen in place, completely blank. "Huh?!" He muttered.

"Huh?" Gus blanked with his mouth open.

"HUUUH?!" Oswald and Mickey screamed with dead white eyes.

Cecelia grinned impishly, her palm glowing on the final panel, "CHECKMATE!" Inscriptions on the four panels blazed in an aquamarine glow. Orbs swirling with a rainbow of auras materialized above the scripts.

"Wait...what is this?" Prescott trembled, studying the orbs. "What are those?"

"What's wrong, Genius? Didn't notice the Absorption Scripts on the panels?" She mocked him. Prescott gasped in terror. He looked at his glove. Dread washed down his spine. _That's it._ Cecelia relished in his reaction. He caught on. "I'm sure you've noticed by now. Whenever you use magic, it regenerates itself. Whether it's yours or not." The last part she added hostiley. She directed attention to the four scripts, trapping all eyes in a trance of the orbs. "Every blast you've launched was sucked into these! And the more you poured out, the less oomph your attacks have had!"

Thunder struck Prescott right at his core, tearing his spirit straight in half. "No...NO! This cannot be!" He clutched animally at his glove.

"What's happening? What is she doing?" Oswald begged for answers, head darting back and forth from Mickey and Gus to Cecelia.

Gus leapt into the air, cheering loudly at how brilliant this trap was. "She's taking her powers back!"

Prescott was sputtering like a car about to break down. Every gear in his head was spiraling out of control. Steam roaring out of his ears. "When...how…!" He snarled venomously. It didn't make sense. "When did she find time to inscribe-" Prescott gasped when it dawned on him. When she was dodging him, there were glows at her hands and feet. He assumed they were meant for giving her an extra pep in her step to elude him. Instead, she was coaxing him to signing his own defeat. "Cecelia...you clever cat." He rasped with an enrage smile. "But do not think that will be enough to save you."

She was glad he said something so pompous, because she isn't done with im yet. "You should have studied a bit more, Press! The ritual you used wasn't meant for backlash! Either keep the magic in a jar, or lose it!" Prescott put a hand to the jar, defending it from the thieves that hunger for it. Although, in the back of his mind, he was writhing at what she was talking about. "When the host is near, the power will beg to return to it! And it will return...BY-ANY-MEANS-NECESSARY!" She stressed with a growl, her eyes starting to glow. "Every blast you've hit me with stung...but you've been giving my magic back to me. Bit...by bit...by BIT!" The ground cracked under her feet, electricity conducted between her ears, fice and ice snaked her fingers with leaves gloving her forearms. "These absorption scripts are just glorified insurance that you couldn't regain what you were expelling."

"NO, NO, NO!" He thrust his gloved hand rampantly, desperately trying to disprove her statement. She had to be wrong. She just had to be! Fire, earth, lightning, wind, FIREWORKS! ANYTHING! Nothing...nothing was coming. It...it was gone? Drained? "It's mine...the power is mine!" He hissed, voice cracking in despair. He was so close! SO CLOSE! This...this can't be happening.

Cecelia closed her eyes in resigned acceptance. He was lost to her. Time to end this. She put her hands together, leaving her index and middle fingers erected. " _Threads that form and sever all, WEAVE MY COMMAND!_ " He eyes flared open, a golden coating filling in the red. Between the four panels, two sets of lines drew in a square then met in the middle where Prescott hovered. Golden chains sprouted from the orbs, wrapping to his wrists and ankles, stretching him to the brink of his limbs popping. " _Upon the loom of fate, blood, flesh, and spirit these phenomena entwine,"_ Scripts that appeared as no more than scribbles to the others printed themselves in the boxes, spirals and swirls etching into Prescott's skin. The jar too was snared by these symbols. Cracks appeared into the glass. _"Rend thee from the pretender! Return now to whom you call MASTER!_ " Prescott wailed in agony, the symbols siphoning every ounce of stolen magic in his veins. The jar broke from his hip, shattering on the floor. The magic from the jar and Prescott exploded out, shooting like stars in the vast cosmos. They swirled around Cecelia, diving into her limbs, torso, heart, mouth, and eyes. Mickey, Oswald, and Gus backed away, apprehensive of what would come if they were too close. She drew in a long rasp of a breath, her body lifted into the air. A healthy color was returned to her skin, giving her a mild tan. The orbs above the panels pierced themselves away, streams wrapping up arms and legs, gathering at her chest. An exoskeleton of her adult self appeared, relaxed to have been returned to her body, and then disappeared as she settled. Cecelia released the held breath, a glow flashing in her eyes, and she was lightly returned to the ground. An outline of golden energy hugged her form. The glare she locked to Prescott was unlike anything he had seen. As the light faded, Cecelia became woozy. Mickey and Oswald supported her. She waved a hand, assuring them she was just fine. In fact...this is the best she's felt in a long time. "Oh man…" She exhaled blissfully. She stretched her arms above her head, twisting and cracking her spine. "That feels great!" She cheered. She fanned her fingers open. All five were coated with the five elements of nature, creating a compressed silver orb modeled like the earth in the middle of her palm. The very world was in her hand again. "Right where its supposed to be."

"And where it shall stay." Gus pat her proudly on the back. "Pretty clever of you to bait him rather than match him blow for blow. No wonder you're the expert."

"Grandpa's the expert. I'm just a student." She rubbed the back of her neck bashfully.

"A clever student." He brushed his knuckles to her cheek. "Your grandfather will be very proud."

"Thanks, Gus." She hugged him.

"Good to have you back, Cecelia." Oswald hummed.

"It's good to be back." She assured him.

Prescott groaned exhausted, shakily pushing up on his hands and knees. "This power…" He moaned, "You've had this strength, this tactician's ability, this whole time?" He said with awe...and respect.

"I warned you. You're not worthy of my powers." She hissed. "You're not worthy of ME!" She crushed the orb, crushing his soul. If it was still there. And now...with her magic back...she was going to make him pay for everything he had done. Later. Right now, she was going to let him wallow in his misery.

A wall of steam erupted in her face, frightening Cecelia onto her butt. Oswald and Mickey gaped in terror. Steam hissed at their feet. Gus ducked when he heard more steam come from overhead. Pipes were breaking from pressure building all around them. Prescott lost color in his cheeks at ear piercing screeching coming from all around them. A low rumbling reverberated into their legs. Soon the whole arena was shaking violently. The very walls were splitting from the building pressure.

"AN EARTHQUAKE?!" Mickey cried.

"No! Maybe an aftershock?" Oswald protested.

"Neither!" Cecelia disagreed strongly. This isn't like the aftershocks in the least. This is mechanical. "This isn't an earthquake! The arena is coming apart!"

Gus snapped his head toward Prescott who was darting in random directions in a panic. He grabbed him by the collar, making that purple menace center his focus on him. "WHAT'S GOING ON, PRESCOTT?! WHAT'S HAPPENING?!"

"TH-TH-The core powering my arena is going critical! I used Cecelia's magic to power it, keeping it constantly fueled and tempered while I worked. Made the process that much faster." Faster in Prescott's case made them all roll their eyes with dread. The number of corners cut will likely leave this whole place leveled to nothing. Or someone's house being rained on by thinner. "When you absorbed your magic from me, my link to that core was severed. It's spiraling out of control." Wires troe themselves aparts, gears flying off their rods. "That steam means the pressure is mounting! Soon this place will tear itself apart and the core will reduce the arena...and the entire floatyard into a flatland of ash!"

"Please tell me no one lives here!" Cecelia begged.

"No, but with the projectors up and running, there's a chance the blast will escape through them!"

"Then Wasteland will really be rocked." Mickey moaned dismally.

"Prescott, where's the core?!" Gus demanded. Prescott didn't have to take them far. The core was in the middle of the panels Cecelia used to snatch her powers back. He opened the hatch. A suckerpunch of scaulding fumes exploded. The group choked on the fumes, but braved it all the same to see into that hatch. There was a ladder leading to a massive orange orb flailing with whips of virulent power. It was tearing the veins of the arena apart, overheating the inner workings and practically melting everything inside. And soon it would reduce everything into nothing. "Cecelia?" He didn't have to ask. She touched her fingertips together, spreading them with sparkling blue threads connecting. She blew on them. A cloud of dust flowed for the core. The mist was soaked up in an instant, then was spat out as an acid immediately. Somehow, she should have seen that coming. She tried another charm, and then another. The core spat it back at them every time, growing more unstable by the second.

"The core is too unstable. It's rejecting the magic!" Prescott snarled.

"I'm guessing you didn't check to make sure it would stabilize while you fed it!" Cecelia cursed him. Prescott lowered his gaze shamefully to the ground. "Yeah, didn't think so."

"And now without the flow…" Gus swallowed a massive lump, "Whatever was capped will now gush in a critical tidal wave!"

"There has to be a way to stop it!" Mickey pleaded.

"There's no time!" Prescott dropped to his hands and knees, shaking his head in failure. "I can't stop it now! Not without the proper power."

 _The proper power._ Cecelia had a very black light bulb click on in her head. "Then it will be done!" She declared. She held out a demanding hand to him. "Give me the ritual! I know you have it!" She snapped. Prescott wasn't sure what she was planning so he didn't waste a minute giving her the torn page. It was like an old friend was in her hand. She used the other to punch him across the face. "That's for tearing my book!" She rode the ladder down, choking on the fumes and flinching at the escaping energy. That core was a lot scarier up close.

"What are you planning?!" Oswald called down.

"I'll let you when I'm done!" Because, to be honest, she isn't even sure it will work. She skimmed the ritual rules, the incantation, and the warnings. _Not to be used for parlor tricks._ Cecelia didn't think rituals could be associated with parlor tricks. She drew a trigram on her chest. Holding her thumb and index fingers together in a circle he shared the trigram and imprinted it onto the core. As expected, the core tried to absorb it, prompting Cecelia to work fast. "You always give your creations a stupid name!" She yelled up at Prescott who had crawled his way to the hatch. Cecelia took out a piece of chalk, drawing glyphs around the core, giving them a light tap of power. "What's this one?!" Gus, Mickey, and Oswald didn't need her to explain that the ritual required a name of the target in order to make it work properly.

"Wheatley is NOT a stupid name!" Prescott howled.

"An evil Wheatley core…" She had to say it a few times in her head after that. "Yeah, it's a stupid name." Prescott threw his hands up. He can never satisfy this woman. Cecelia moved back from the core, sitting crossed legged across from it. She interlaced her finger her last three fingers, curving her thumbs under the trigram on her chest, angeling the index fingers in a point. She closed her eyes, exhaling firmly. " _Threads that form and sever all…"_ A second voice whispered behind hers, seeming to echo everywhere and nowhere, " _Weave my command!_ " She flared her eyes opened. Six crimson chains sprouted violently from the trigram in her chest, wrapping tightly to the core and hooking to the trigram. " _Upon the loom of fate, blood, flesh, and bones by this soul entwined,_ " She flourished her palms open, feeding more power into the four trigrams she drew around the core. The core relentlessly tried to swallow the chains. Cecelia wouldn't permit it. " _Vacate thine vessel of choice! Enter now unto the next as I speak their name!_ " Even in a chant, she knows for a fact that it will sound absolutely stupid. And she hates that she has to say it. " _The Wheatley Core!_ " Along all six chains Cecelia's magic snaked its way into the core. It was a lot more gentle than when Prescott stole it, but the pain was just as potent. Cecelia wailed in agony. Half of her being was being torn out of her, leaking uncontrollably. The magic was drank like water by the core, causing more rampant energy to escape the core and lash out violently. Cecelia anticipated this outcome. Precisely why she was smirking through the pain at the glowing glyphs. The escaping whips were rebound by an invisible liquid shield, sent right back into the core. Cecelia lurched to her hands and knees, heavily panting with buckets of sweat pouring down her brow. The color was leaving her again, robbing her of her breath. The out of control energy was steadily being contained as the magic poured into it. The glyphs aided in restraining whatever tried to still fly away, only working in calming the storm that is the Evil Wheatley Core. The searing heat and fume gradually died down, fresh air from the hatch snaking in. Overwhelmed circuits and gadgets slowing to a steady flow. The building pressure deflated, bringing the steam to a halt. The stream of magic finally came to a halt. The crimson chains became brittle, crumbling into disintegrating flakes. Cecelia's arms shook. Her vision was blurring. Her muscles hardene to lead. She dropped to her stomach, breathing raspily.

"Cecelia…?!" Prescott whimpered. She isn't moving...she stopped moving. _No...no...please._

Mickey and Oswald climbed down. She was still breathing, and her eyes were open. That's a really good sign. They carried her out. Gus allowed Prescott to help pull her out. She growled in the back of her throat. Prescott grimaced at her expression. "GET THE HELL OFF ME!" She stomped her foot in his face, kicking him away and leaving him with a swift dose of karma. "Bastard…" She wheezed.

"What just happened?" Gus redirected their attention, cradling Cecelia's head on his lap.

"The complete opposite of what I set out to do." She groaned, willing herself to sit up on her palms. "The magic I just got back," She pointed in revulsion at the semi-pacified care below, "Is keeping that thing under control."

"What…" Prescott gasped in horror. Cecelia knit her brow at his reaction. She doesn't need his concern. "Wait, so...that means…" Prescott's head was spinning. He can't believe it. "You gave up your magic? It's gone again?" After everything she went through to get it back...she gave it up again?

"For now." She spat at him. She can see everyone had questions. And there is a fear of those glyphs losing power. "The glyphs around it are outfitted with a symbol for Symbiosis. The escaping energy feeds the glyphs," A few sparks proved her point. The glyphs resonated as they were absorbed, "The glyphs in turn are keeping that core contained." And keeping the Floatyard from being erased from Wasteland forever. "And it will keep doing so until I say otherwise."

"Wow…" Mickey breathed, putting hands to his hips. "That's...exhausting...and really clever." Cecelia smiled at the compliment. She tries. She touched the gloves and her spellbook in both defeat and resolution. This method of spellcasting is what she wanted to be free from. Sure, she's learned how to adapt...but it was still limited. To think this was going to be her life from now on. Or until they figure out how to deal with that core. At the same time...several shattering disasters have been averted. Therefore, if being near powerless was keeping her friends and everyone safe...she'll sacrifice it all.

Now for the bigger issue. The purple gremlin with the shoe print on his face. Gus went over to the sinking gremlin, serving as a barrier between him and Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald. He didn't dare make eye contact with either of them. He can't. Not now...not ever. "Oh, Prescott." Gus moaned, placing his hands remorsefully to his shoulders. "I never wanted this to happen." He got the purple gremlin to stand. He truly wished it didn't have to be this way.

"I...don't understand." He whimpered, coming undone. "He told me NO ONE could defeat me!" That no one would be able to match him. Cecelia, Mickey, and Oswald's ears bounced at the pronoun.

"HE told you? Who are you talking about?" Gus questioned. Before Prescott had the chance to answer him, the projector to his arena turned on. Brows arched when Daisy and a Spatter holding a camera jumped through. Chills scaled their flesh when Big Bad Pete, a red mechanical bird with a spring packed foot...and The Mad Doctor came out after her. "And suddenly I am suspicious again." Gus snarled.

"What's he doing here?" Cecelia growled. Her teeth sharpened to fangs, hungering to tear the flesh from his animatronic bones.

"How did he even know to come here?" Mickey questioned. And honestly, Oswald wanted to know that too.

Daisy had her Spatter assistant cue up the live camera feed, putting all other inquiries to rest. She brought her microphone to her beak and began bringing the up to date happenings within Wasteland's underbelly. But it will not go unanswered how she and her _company_ knew where to find them. "Daisy Duck here! We're following The Mad Doctor," Nevermind! Asked and answered, earning the said Doctor harsh glares from Cecelia and Gus, "Who is on the trail of the notorious Gremlin Prescott." _On his trail?_ Cecelia snarled in her mind. The Mad Doctor was following him the whole time? That means...he would have seen Cecelia get thrown off the cliff, and Gus and the boys running their own investigations. The scary question is, _Where the Hell was he?!_ "Maybe now we'll find out Prescott's plans," Daisy lured the camera in for a close up of the purple gremlin. Gus stayed by Prescott, while Cecelia and the boys dodged from being trampled by Daisy, "As well as what The Mad Doctor was recently doing in Ventureland."

"Ventureland?" Gus and Cecelia whispered.

Everyone backed away from Prescott as the Doc's strange hopping bird came close. No one noticed the strange flash that came from its eyes. Prescott became trapped in this sort of daze, his whole body going limp like a puppet cut from his strings. His face was blank. Drool dribbled from his slack lips. The Mad Doctor approached him with a rather pleased expression. The hair's on Cecelia, Oswald, and Mickey's tail stood on end. And not because they heard another song coming. Well...partly. _**"Prescott, dear Prescott!"**_ He smushed the gremlin's cheeks together. _**"You shall not be forgotten! I'll tell your story,"**_ He hugged him in close, dramatically draping an arm across his eyes, _ **"Of how it all went rotten~..."**_ Gus noticed the sneaky nod The Mad Doctor made Prescott do. He parted from the hypnotized Gremlin. _**"What happened to you, gremlin? How'd you meet this day?"**_ Prescott's head mindlessly followed The circling Doctor. _ **"Why'd you turn your back on Wasteland?"**_ He exaggeratedly plunged a fake dagger into his chest, feigning betrayal by Prescott. _**"Why'd it end this way?**_

Prescott stood straight, _**"I will tell you. All must understand it.**_ " Baffled expressions by his robotic singing were shared between Oswald, Cecelia, and Mickey. Gus, however, was drawn in by the confession. _ **"All those things that went so wrong - It was I who planned it!"**_ Gus and Cecelia's throats tensed, lumps forming dropped into their stomachs.

The Mad Doctor brought Daisy's camera Blot in for a close up. _**"Unfortunate toon, your message I will send. Rest now,"**_ He lied the gremlin down, _ **"And let us be at peace."**_ Cecelia tiptoed to the slumbering gremlin. The Doctor glared harshly with an accusing finger pointing to Prescott. _ **"Your evil now will end."**_

Prescott sprang right back up, making Cecelia flinch. _**"I know I am a villain! The worst they're speaking of."**_ He turned to Cecelia, swirling eyes frightening her. _ **"But please remember this…"**_ He took her hand, lifting it to his mouth, _ **"I only wanted to be loved."**_ He fell back before his lips ever touched her palm, leaving Cecelia fighting back hurt tears.

"Well, dat's dat."

Big Bad threw in a verse. _ **"I'll take it from here."**_ He flicked Gus and Cecelia back with his large hand. _ **"Lemme question him alone,"**_ He hoisted him to his shoulder like a sack, _ **"And his answers will be clear."**_ Gus and Cecelia weren't dissuaded. They tried to follow Big Bad. They needed answers.

" _ **YOU HEARD HIM!"**_ The Mad Doctor obnoxiously bombarded into their path. _ **"HE-WORKED-A-LONE!"**_ He aggressively stomped forward, edging the pair to Oswald and Mickey. _ **"HIS EE-VIL MET-ITS-FATE!"**_ He professed passionately to the four, earning unsure glances to one another. It made sense...but there was something off. The Mad Doctor headed for the projector. " _ **The earthquakes are gone! LET'S GO,"**_ He exuberantly swung his arm, leading the march, _ **"To Mean-Street, and cel-e-brate!"**_

Daisy and her Camera Blotling caught up to him. _**"What will you do now?"**_ She held her microphone up to him, not even remotely noticing the evil grin shadowing his face.

" _ **I'm going to build...a magnificent attraction."**_ He moved his hand through the air, putting his idea in lights. _ **"There will be joy in Wasteland. And such satisfaction."**_ He smushed his face to the camera. _ **"There are Beetleworx and Blotworx. Battles to be won."**_ He stepped to the side, allowing the Blotling and Daisy to exit into the projector first. _**  
"Secrets to uncover!"**_ He added as a fruit for thought to Oswald and Company. _ **"There is so-much-to-be-dooonnneee."**_ He dove into the projector, his signature evil laugh echoing.

"I guess Prescott was working alone." Oswald stated, though not entirely convinced.

"It seems awfully suspicious to me." Mickey shared his skepticism. Gus, however, wasn't so easily swayed by their optimistic doubts. He lowered his head in broken sorrow, a dagger wedging his good friend's betrayal deeper. This was his fault. Prescott never would have turned evil if Gus had been more supportive. This was his sin to bear. He cursed himself for being so...so blind. "Guess we won't know till he wakes up." Mickey stated, walking off with the boys.

Cecelia, on the other hand, just stood there. Her head bowed, arms hanging limply, ears drooping, and a crestfallen shadow across her defeated face. "He'd better stay that way." She hissed, fighting the tears stinging her eyes. The fire that was in her eyes was gone. She didn't care anymore. She doesn't want to care. _I'm done. No more._ She just...wants to go home.

 **To be continued**


	24. Picking up the Pieces

**Picking up the Pieces**

 **Moving on.**

 **xxx**

If there is no rest for the wicked, then there is no mercy for the saintly either. Upon leaving Prescott's decimated arena, Oswald and company took in a long drawn breath of fresh air. Who knew Projector worlds could have such clean air despite being trapped between reels. Being stuck in a bog, an old fort, several dioramas, and a glorified junkyard wreaked havoc on their lungs. That was about the only saving grave they got today. Once they exited the projector onto Mean Street South, the nauseating sight of the townsfolk swarming The Mad Doctor to shower him with adoration wrinkled Oswald and Cecelia's brows. Why were they praising him? He didn't do anything? HECK, he hasn't done anything this WHOLE TIME except for using the Blotworx to fix up things here and there. He hasn't nearly been crushed by a mechanical dragon, assaulting by blotlings, attacked by gators, thrown off cliffs, and nearly lost his life in a battle arena against a megalomaniac. Yet there they all were singing his praises and swooning over him like he was a gift from the heavens. The credit for capturing Prescott and ending his tyranny was all being dropped at HIS feet. He was nowhere to be seen when Prescott's schemes started to come undone. Guess that's a grey area when he's the one who had Daisy capture his _confession_ on live TV, and had Big Bad Pete dragging him off to prison at City Hall. It irritated Oswald and Cecelia to no rational end. Granted, neither of them are doing this for recognition, reward, or revelry. Wasteland is their home. They would sacrifice life and limb for it. Incidentally, they seems to be their lives lately. But would it kill the people to not forget who the real heroes around here are.

"So Prescott was behind it all along." Cecelia's feline ears bounced, twisting toward the cow woman and her gaggle of friends just within earshot.

"Not surprising. He showed all the signs of a classic villain." A horse woman added in her two sense. Gotta give these women credit for at least trying to be quiet. Gossips can't help babbling on.

"And how he'd always keep to himself with his projects. Just proves he was plotting." A dog woman bobbed her head, believing she sounds so intelligent. "He's always been such an angry guy."

"Hey, isn't she his girlfriend?" The cow woman gasped a little too loudly. Her friends shushed her. Cecelia managed to not ball her fists, or react in anyway physically. But if they were able to see her eyes...they'd run in terror of the thorns she was envisioning tearing them to ribbons with.

"Do you think she was in on it too?" The dog woman fretted.

"Cecelia? No, never. She helped save us." The horse woman defended.

"But she's his girlfriend. How could she not have seen it?" The dog woman countered.

"Maybe she didn't want to." The cow woman sighed contritely. Cecelia lowered her head. One of her fangs bit into her lip.

"Can you blame her?" The horse woman quizzed her friends.

"No, I guess not." The dog woman sighed in defeat. The trio decided to finally take their leave. "I wouldn't want to see fault in my boyfriend either." Nothing for the wicked, and nothing for the saint. Just criticisms from those who wait to be saved. Those women clearly have nothing better to do with their lives. They talk way too much. Cecelia's brow quirked. The three women screamed when they dropped into a manhole that...wasn't there before. Their whines from falling into sludge brought a pretty satisfied grin to Cecelia's cheeks. Gus, on the other hand, wasn't too thrilled with her. She didn't care.

Oswald was a little more preoccupied with the fawns around The Mad Doctor. It was withering his cottontail that he was getting all the hurrahs for something he didn't even lift a finger in. They were forgetting all about the leader who has given up nearly everything for them, for a man who hasn't been back long enough to even be considered a real resident of Wasteland. Mickey was right there with his pal, wanting to console him somehow. Not that he knew what to say right now. A lot's happened in the past few hours. He's a bit scrambled in the head. All he knows is that they survived, and their lead suspect was being carted off unconscious to prison.

"C'mon…" Mickey's voice got Oswald, Gus, and Cecelia to free themselves from their stupors. "Let's go check on Prescott." Cecelia was so numb that she barely twitched. More like a pot shock to her muscles that got her to move. Gus was behind Mickey, in full agreement that they need answers quickly. Oswald took one more look at the crowd around The Mad Doctor, then trudged off crestfallen with his head down.

 **xxx**

Didn't take much banter with Big Bad to let them in. Looking after a comatose gremlin isn't exactly his idea of the highlight of his career. He was happy in his unique way to let Oswald and the others in. Gave him time to get back to his magazine. _How to get your beach body in three easy steps._ He was mostly reading for the models. His wife Peg was in there.

Cecelia's face twisted with malice as they drew closer to Prescott's cell. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her small fingers balled into fists. _He'd better stay unconscious when I'm around,_ Is what she should be saying. It couldn't be so far from the front of her mind. Instead...she wanted him to wake up. The unbridled rage boiling that blood in Cecelia's veins cooling to a simmer. She broke from her wallowing with the help of the one rational thought striking the bell in the back of her mind. As she's meandering behind the boys, this nagging - almost nerve grinding - feeling that the most obvious of signals had just smacked her in the face was tormenting her. Like that time when she was in school and her English teacher was dropping massive hints on who the April Fool pulling pranks on everyone was, but she and everyone else accused someone else because they seemed like the obvious choice. It was then that she learned that the most obvious choice isn't always the right choice. _This...this feels wrong._ She rumbled to herself, balling her little fingers into fists. Something...was right in front of her face...yet she couldn't see it. Didn't mean she still didn't want to blow his head off his shoulders.

"Cecelia…" Gus latched a hand to her wrist, stopping the finger with a razor edged light coating her finger from meeting Prescott's skull. "I understand your rage." He gently pushed her back by the shoulders, turning her head by the cheek so she would focus on him. "But this will not help anyone. Least of all you." The last time she violently lashed out she ended up feeling worse about herself. Gus hasn't forgotten.

"I don't know." She crooned with a stale glare going straight through him to Prescott. "The last time an obliterating spell was put on someone I sure felt better." Kept the bastard away from her for nearly a decade.

Gus had to force her to go stand with Oswald and Mickey. He can't deny he didn't feel the sameway. Not the feeling better with violence part. That this wasn't sitting right. None of this was making sense to him. Yes, Prescott is a grump and he doesn't always get the best treatment. But how he went about taking his rage out on everyone. Stealing Cecelia's magic, taking out the projectors, lying to everyone. It felt too random. There was no rela method here. Sort of like things fell into place too neatly for him. He stayed out of the limelight for the longest time...on his own? He backed a ridiculous amount of projects, oversaw constructions no one else was aware of...all without raising the slightest suspicion. A recluse though he is, an enormous grouch he is even more, there is by no means of logic that no one would have noticed he was acting strangely. Disappearing all hours of the day, likely coming back smelling like the underside of a greased up tractor. Fellow gremlins - Jamface especially - would have noticed something. Prescott is the only lead they have as to why he really went rogue...and what's really going on behind the curtain. And Gus and his companions planned to bleed him dry. Or...that was the plan.

"Welcome to the wonderful world of..." Prescott babbled incoherently, cackling like a madman. His eyes were trapped in a swirling stupor. "This portion of the show...is brought to you by…" Gus and Cecelia waved hands in front of his face. He didn't even know they were there. Prescott started laughing to himself again, messing up a timeless classic of an intro to a famous park. Gus shook his head, declaring it hopeless to talk to him while he is like this. Possibly a blessing in disguise. Cecelia looked ready to punch him.

Oswald's priorities were still strained as well. Watching The Mad Doctor walk off with his entourage was really creasing his shorts. "Did ya hear about the new attraction The Doc's building?" Mickey and Cecelia tiled their heads. This is the first they've heard of it. The nutbar contributing to Wasteland after taking credit that wasn't his? How much salt can be rubbed in a wound? "He said it'll boost morale!" Oswald should be happy about that. But he was really down the dumps. He sighed heavily, "I wish I'd thought of it." He would have if he wasn't so busy. He can't stand how devoted everyone's become to him in such a short amount of time. After what he's done the past couple of times, you'd think they'd be wary of putting their full faith in him. Funny how Oswald is starting to feel like this now after being The Doc's biggest advocate. There is a little green in his eyes.

Cecelia was only seeing red. No pun intended. She glared at the babbling gremlin, growing more irritated by the second while he butchered _when you wish upon a star._ Her nose was wrinkling being within ten feet of him. She doesn't even know why she's still here. Prescott was caught, her magic was returned and is now exchanged to keep a core stable, the projectors were fixed, Wasteland was safe again. All that was left was to fix what the earthquakes destroyed. There's no reason to for her to linger. She turned on her heels, storming for the door.

"Cecelia?" Mickey chirped.

"Big Bad, always fun!" She scoffed. He bumped fists with her without looking from his magazine. The door slammed behind her. Mickey, Gus, and Oswald glanced confused at one another, then chased her down.

 **xxx**

Cecelia saw those three women from before climb their way out of the muck. They were crying and whining about how their dresses were ruined, and how they will never get the smell out. At the same time they were singing, "WE'RE FREE! WE'RE FREE!" Cecelia wasn't feeling kind so she bumped them with her hips and sent them plummeting back into the filth. "DANG IT!" The three screamed. She smiled again. She hates those gossips.

Mickey, Oswald, and Gus all rubbernecked in sorrow for their three unfortunate women. But they kept up with Cecelia, catching he right as she neared the slope to the train station. "Cecelia! Where are you going?!" Oswald shouted. She tried to ignore them, making her way up the slope. Oswald growled in the back of his throat. He flew over her, landing in her path with his arms stretched out. She wasn't getting past him without talking first. "Cecelia, please, wait! She stopped a foot away from him, staring in his direction but not at him. She was in her own form of space. "Talk to us!" He begged. Mickey and Gus blocked her only other escape, both really worried about her. "Don't shut us out. We're passed that, aren't we?" She hasn't breathed hardly a word since they went to see Prescott. They have to be sure she isn't going to do anything foolish.

"You were right." She rasped resignedly. Oswald blinked in dismay. Cecelia slapped her hands at her thighs, her body slouching like there was no fight left in it. "From the moment you pointed out my book...you were right." She smoothed her hand to the book, cursing that she ever left it here in the first place. "Prescott was behind it all, and I helped him." In the grand scheme of things...it's her fault any of this was happening. She gave Prescott the key to crippling Wasteland. Mickey and Gus were taken aback in horror that she said that. This was no more her fault than Prescott falling to the darkside. But telling her otherwise wasn't going to work. Not now. "Your friend proved he's capable of changing. Mine...well...he can only change for the worst." She roughly shook Oswald's hands with the greatest of self loathing. "Congratulations. You're a better judge of character. And you're a great leader."

"Cecelia...I…" Oswald wasn't able to finished. She shoved her way past him. "Hey! Where you goin'?" He asked for the fifth time, chasing after her.

"The projectors are fixed, Prescott's plot has been exposed, my powers were back for a full two minutes but are now keeping an unstable core in check…" Might as well be gone forever. But with all that said, she waved a hand, putting Wasteland behind her, "I'm going home." Neither of them should say that they didn't see that coming eventually. But it was still a surprise. It was just so sudden. They thought she'd at least stick around for the clean up. Maybe mingle with everyone and enjoy Wasteland now that the danger was averted. As mentioned before, neither of them can say they didn't see her leaving. Oswald closed himself off when Ortensia was taken, and when The Mad Doctor betrayed him the first time. He even set traps for Mickey out of jealousy. He kept everyone at a distance to cope with all of the disasters going on around him. A man she loved - who swore up and down to always defend her, protect her, stand by her, and love her unconditionally - betrayed her as badly as her own father. It would be unfair to ask her to stick around during this period of grief. Having her stay would be cruel.

"Cecelia…" Oswald took her hand as she stood before the projector. A plight was in his glossy eyes. "Are you sure there's nothing we can say to get you to stay?" He understands that she wants to run away, put this all behind her. He understands and he is willing to let her go. But he would be a horrible friend if he didn't fight for her to stay. If it's because he was right that she's also running, he'll tell her a thousand stories of how he was wrong and nearly cost others their lives.

"Not now." She placed a hand to his, easing him off her. _Not now_ put a little spark in Oswald's eyes. Gave him hope it was a _till next time._ "I just...need some time." She pleaded.

"I understand." He conceded. He gave her a big hug. Mickey and Gus joined in. Cecelia wrapped her arms to her boys, squeezing them with every ounce of love she contained for them. "Wasteland is your home too. You can come back anytime you want." Oswald assured her.

"Thanks, Oz." She freed herself from the hug, cupping his cheek. Truly, he's been the best friend she could ask for this whole time. No dismissing Mickey and Gus. It was nice to have someone who understood what it meant to have someone you placed absolute trust in betray you. Helps he cope a little, but not enough to keep her around. She needs to blow this off. How long that will take? The core might calm down and give her magic back before that. "Tell Ortensia and Jamface bye for me."

"We will." Oswald promised. "See you soon?"

"Maybe." She wasn't sure. She skipped into the projector, on her way back to Dark Beauty Castle. And just like that, their team was down by two and the hole grew two times larger.

"Now what?" Mickey shrugged his hands. Prescott was still unconscious, and by all appearances Wasteland wasn't in any danger anymore. Oswald sank into himself. He didn't have a clue what to do from here. He was pretty winded.

Gus clapped loudly, gaining their attention. "We still have friends who need help around here." He informed the boys with an uplifting smile. The schemes have been thwarted, but there is still damage that needs to be taken care of. "Now that the projectors are all fixed, why don't we lend a hand and see if we can't dig anything up." Oswald and Mickey nodded, finding that would go a long way in helping them heal too. And maybe, just maybe, that nagging feeling that they are missing something will go away. Or prove viable.

 **xxx**

The projector let Cecelia out in the castle's foyer. She'd think it was impossible for her to be shocked by anything at this point. Wasteland continues to not disappoint. The rest of the castle was in pieces from the quake, but the foyer was untouched. As pristine as the last time she was there. Save for a few quakes, a few missed scorch marks from when they blew it up last year, and wrinkled curtains and tapestries. Other than that...it was in the best shape she's seen. It was refreshing. She hopes the rest of Wasteland can be refurbished to this sort of glory. She just hopes the room she needs isn't in shambles.

Cecelia meandered up the stairs to the west wing, keeping a hand to the railing. She was a little unsteady. Her mind was crucifying her for running with her tail between her legs. Limping off wounded from a broken heart while everyone else was still in the process of recovering. Meanwhile, her heart was telling her this was the right thing. She can't put her whole being into a cause when half of it has been torn viciously out of her. And no, this wasn't referring to her powers. A piece of her is missing. Wasteland's been through too much. It doesn't deserve her not being at 100%.

A door was barricaded by fallen debris. Cecelia had to pour her weight in, but managed to ram her way inside. She choked on the dust blowing in her face. The blown open window was to blame for that one. The room was in bad shape. Thankfully the mirror wasn't. So she won't be crash landing into her grandfather's tower like she did on her return trip to Wasteland. Yensid will appreciate that. She came to the window as she approached the mirror. A shimmering horizon view of Wasteland basked in the sunset. In the midst of disaster, this land had a talent for looking its most beautiful. And she doesn't have the spine to see it return to its full glory. "I'm so sorry." She placed a hand to the mirror. The glass rippled like a pond disturbed by a stone. She closed her eyes, letting her mind follow a line back to her home. She placed a foot forward. The mirror allowed it to enter. She then took a deep breath and stepped in, leaving Wasteland behind her.

 **xxx**

By the next morning, Mickey, Gus, and Oswald breathed in a fresh new beginning for Wasteland. A couple of aftershocks gave them a rocky start. That didn't spoil the beautiful golden dawn. Being able to look up to the sky and not have that fear catastrophe was going to fall on their heads did wonders to motivate them. The trio split off in every direction, racing to find which of their friends needed their help the most.

Gus and Oswald started with the Ice Cream Parlor. The A/C unit on the roof of his shop had stopped working a few days ago. An aftershock jostled something loose and he's been stuck with melting ice cream, and melting customers, ever since. Mickey had an equally easy job. He filled in all the thinned toon around Mean Street South, bringing new life back to those old buildings. Making it easier for the construction workers to build them up. This included the icecream parlor, letting Oswald and Gus help their good friend out of a bind. And what a bind it was. He tried to fix it himself, nearly lost his hand. Not his best move. He doesn't know an electric circuit from a race circuit. Oswald and Gus got him covered. They happened to be old hands at this sort of work. A quick fly up to the roof, and Oswald and Gus had that A/C blowing at full power in two shakes of a chocolatey milky treat. The shop owner gave them icecream on the house.

Next was the theatre. The usher was having power problems of his own. Hasn't been able to show a good cartoon in a long time. Not since the quake took out his power. His theatre has been losing business because he can't show the pictures patrons came from far and wide to see. And booking little puppet shows, plays, and brief events wasn't doing him much favors. At least not on a long term basis. On top of all that, the museum owner Laralee confiscated all of his film reels while he was licking his wounds. Calling them _treasured Wasteland icons that must be preserved._ He knew the truth behind her statement. She's been lurking like a vulture for his reels since the day he opened. She didn't hesitate to get what was his. Gus being the diplomate of their little crew decided to handle Laralee. Mickey and Oswald took care of the power unit on the roof. Oswald hovered above the thinned roof, letting Mickey work his novice artist skills and fill in the blanks. Once solid, Oswald and Mickey landed to the roof and Oswald worked his magic on the access port, and the theatre was up and running with all the bells and whistles. Almost immediately afterward, Gus was returning with a bag full of film reels and a whole lot of scratches. Laralee wasn't happy to give up the reels. Or that Gus threatened to charge her with theft. The usher was smart enough to stamp his reels with his seal so no one can try and claim his property.

The usher thanked Mickey, Oswald, and Gus for his help. No thanks necessary. They were happy to help. As they were about to take their leave, Fifer Pig dragged Mickey to the side with a desperate plea. And it has to do with the scratches he saw Gus come in the Theatre with. He knows who gave them to him, and how Mickey can save anyone else from being attacked by that crazy harpy. The Usher caught Gus and Oswald on their exit with a couple of special requests that caught his ear a while ago.

 **xxx**

Fifer Pig pulled Mickey into a corner, double checking to make sure they were alone. He was really spooked by Gus's scratches because he's not the first one to be mauled by Laralee. A while ago, Fifer was reunited with his two brothers and they were about to put out a new album that would settle a huge debt they had to a record company of wolves. Actual wolves that were anxious to put the three pigs on a platter. What saved them is that they found a way to broadcast their new album, and made a killing selling their records. Here's where the problem came in. Laralee knows the full history of the pigs - knows they were a big deal before they were forgotten - and she found her way into a warehouse housing their records and took a few for her collection. The pigs retaliated by taking their property back, and wound up being attacked. Laralee has gone off the rails since she lost half her museum's acquisitions after the quake. And now she's becoming a petty thief, as well as a mad attack dog. Gus may not have had luck, but Fifer was sure as the day is long that Laralee wouldn't attack Wasteland's hero. Fifer and everyone else need Mickey to talk to that mad cow before she accidentally kills someone. Mickey didn't have a whole lot of faith in his diplomacy skills, or that he can survive a mad museum owner's wrath, but he'll give it a shot. He did say he wanted to help rebuild Wasteland. This is how he'll do it.

 **xxx**

The Usher took Gus and Oswald to the side with a couple of intriguing circumstances that would have made for great movies. But he would spare them that long tale due to the fact that good friends of his are in need of help. The first one was involving Donald. Daisy is a little cheesed at him because they haven't gone on a date in a while. No surprise. Daisy has been busy with her TV Reports, and Donald has been sailing the thinner seas to lend a hand with the clean up. They both saw they were having some down time coming up so Donald scheduled a date with her on his boat. The two would take a couple of days to themselves, touring the open seas in each other's arms. As couples should. Sounded really romantic. The problem is, that date was supposed to happen two days ago. Donald had postponed the date saying he was having ISSUES with the boat. What those issues are...he hasn't said. And won't say. Donald hid out in the theatre all day yesterday, rambling on to himself about how Daisy was going to kill him. The Usher felt sorry for him, but had no clue how to help. That's why he pulled Oswald and Gus aside. Maybe one of them can ascertain why Donald is stalling, and hiding out from his girlfriend. Oswald was happy to take this one. He hasn't even spoken with Donald yet, but he can smell a boyfriend lie a mile away. He's had to put a few to Ortensia's ear when he's trying to hide something. There is more wrong with that boat than that vague tale implied. The Usher told him Donald has been in Bog Easy. Oswald skipped off into the projector without another word. On his way to live through a corny love story gone wrong.

Gus lingered in anticipation of the second request The Usher had. This one was a little more closer to home, but would also take Gus into Bog Easy. The Usher knows Gus is familiar with the Ghost Brothers who live with Madam Leona in the Haunted Mansion. More than familiar, really. Gus finds that his relationship with the Brothers has grown since their last escapade there. One of the brothers, Tedworth, has taken up residence in Horace's detective agency and he doesn't have any plans on leaving any time soon. Horace is a good friend to The Usher, so naturally he came to him and pleaded for his help in getting rid of the little poltergeist. That isn't to say Horace hates having Tedworth around. Not in the least. He likes the little guy. But he's becoming more of a burden than a help. He's so obsessed with finding something that he's jeopardizing Horace's work. In reality, this is a two pronged job. Help Horace get rid of Tedworth by finding who or what he's looking for, and get Horace another assistant. Gus wasn't too sure how much help he can be here, but he understands how serious Horace takes his work. With Prescott locked up and a catastrophe was averted, Horace must have a ton of cases to sort through. If Tedworth is getting in the way of that, Gus feels its his civic duty to assist. He happily accepted the job. Hopefully he can make both of these boys happy. A Ghost haunting a detective...huh. Really does sound like a movie.

 **xxx**

"THOSE MALIGNANT RATS!" Mickey ducked back outside the museum door. A goblet shattered on the door, chipping away at the wood. Mickey poked his head inside, cringing at how that could have been his head. "GRAH! BREAKING INTO MY MUSEUM! TAKING WHAT IS MINE!" Laralee was howling like a crazed animal, tossing random junk aloft from behind her desk. "WHO DO THOSE VULTURES THINK THEY ARE?"

"The owners?" Mickey squeaked meekly. He really regretted speaking when Laralee's head popped up with searing red eyes and steam roaring out of her nostrils. Her fingers - gnarly demon talons - hooked into her desk. Cracks rivaling the quake's mess caved the mahogany desk. Laralee towered behind it, her shadow morphing into The Blot. Even came with its own evil laugh. _MUWA-HA-HA-HA!_ This explains why whenever someone goes into Laralee's museum to reclaim what is theirs...they come back in pieces. Mickey had half a mind to run out of that museum and never look back. Unfortunately, running away wasn't an option when a gust of wind with no real origin shut the door behind him. And he promised Fifer he was sort this out.

"Well, well, well. Mickey the Mouse! Come to steal from me too, have you?!" She snarled with a murderous glare. She was climbing on her desk, getting on her haunches.

"NO-NO! NOT AT ALL!" Mickey waved his hands frantically, keeping them shoulder height to show he meant no harm. "I-I-I'm here because Fifer and The Usher told me you've been stealing people's stuff to fill you museum!"

"THEY'RE LIARS! I'M NOT STEALING!" She barked shrilly. Mickey clamped hands to his ears. "I'm commandeering objects whose owners I've deemed wouldn't miss them!"

"Then why did you attack Gus and Fifer when they went to reclaim what you _commandeered?_ " Sarcastic air quotes are not uncalled for here. Mickey isn't stupid, and neither is Laralee. Unless permission was involved, stealing is stealing. He's already been lied to bold faced by a friend. He won't let a second one do it.

Laralee huffed and puffed and was ready to blow down the house with some form of half baked excuse for why she was justified in taking other people's things to fill the holes in her museum. She sputtered like a deflated balloon, flattening to her desk with a self-loathing whimper. "I didn't mean to attack them." She mumbled. "I just...ugh…" She clutched at the tightness in her chest. "Mickey, this museum is my world. Everything you see is what I've built from the ground up. All the artifacts you see are what I and close friends put on display." Mickey had to take time to admire the dedication and craftsmanship. It outshined the dingy blemishes of the quakes damage. He ran a hand to a cracked wall, overtaken by the amount of love that went into the plaster, supports, and spackle. And what remained of her artifacts were on display in a case beside her desk. Not a single trace of dust, or time worn decay showed in the least. Mickey will not deny how much Laralee cares for the museum. He bet if the walls could talk, and the mirrors could replay the years, a true history of Wasteland and Laralee would be told. "I know that doesn't excuse how I've been acting. But I can't lose this place. Or anymore of my treasures." The quake already took so much.

"I understand." Mickey meandered to her, patting her arm lovingly. He appreciates token that take him on a blast to the past. That Walt Statue on Mean Street North is a definite tear jerker. It didn't take him long to come up with a plan. "How about I go around Wasteland and get together some treasures for your displays?"

"WOULD YOU?!" She lit up.

"Of course! I'd be happy to." Mickey dug in her desk, setting out a pad and pen. "Just tell me what you're looking for and I'll try to find it for ya."

"Oh, Mickey!" Laralee painted his face with kisses. "You're a lifesaver!" Mickey tried not to swoon. He's happily attached to his girl waiting for him in the cartoon world. Laralee wrote down everything she was missing, and what she needed to complete her collection. She took up three pages of paper, really making Mickey regret wanting to do this. At the same time, he assumed that this long list of junk - TREASURES - would likely save him from that itch he can't scratch. That overwhelming sensation that he...missed something after Prescott was arrested. This was a pretty long list Laralee was writing. Will take him a while to finish it. Could be this feeling is just him being restless. Wasteland is saved, after all. He's sure it'll pass.

 **xxx**

Oswald wasn't hoping to come back to Bog Easy so soon. Hasn't quite recovered from the last visit...all of a few hours ago. Dodging gators leaping gators, and mechanical frogs that spit thinner wasn't on his itinerary for the day. Granted, it's preferable to running for his life from evil machine. Called a nice sweet cake walk. Still, he was really hoping for something that would let him kick up his sore bunny feet with a piece of carrot cake and some juice in his hand. No such luck. BUT his best buddy Donald was in the worst sort of danger a man can be in, so he's willing to brave Bog Easy three times over. No man should be in hot water with his girlfriend. Least of all when a date that is nearly 48 hours postponed looks like its about to be canceled. Trust in Oswald - do not EVER cancel on Daisy or Ortensia. It's very dangerous.

"DONALD!" Oswald waved to the distraughtly pacing Duck from the air. Figures the boat swirling in that whirlpool with nowhere to go was his. Oswald just didn't give it much thought with how much of a rush he was in. "Good to see you, buddy!"

"OSWALD!" Donald tackled the rabbit in a monster hug. "Boy am I glad to see you! Do you think you can help me?!"

"That's why I'm here." Oswald assured him. And it looks like he got here just in time. The thinner was tearing that boat to shreds. "What happened?"

"My boat was damaged in the quake, but I've managed to keep her afloat with some patchwork here and there!" With how banged up that old thing was, Oswald was surprised it hasn't blown up by now. But he wasn't there to judge. He was there to help where he can. "I made a wrong turn here in Bog Easy on my way to pick up Daisy for our date and ran aground! Now I'm stuck!"

Stuck is an understatement. _STOP IT, OSWALD!_ He needs to stop judging and start figuring out how to help. "How can I help?"

"I think Gremlin Sparks might be able to lend me a hand. He's hanging out by the old house." Donald directed him to a little gremlin slumping at the abandoned house down the street. He arched a brow. He knows Sparks is naturally blue, but he seemed down in the dumps about something. "Think you can ask him for me? I gotta keep these gators off my boat!"

"Sure thing, pal. Sit tight." It wasn't until he was sure he was well out of earshot that he felt comfortable voicing, "Dead duck walking." Daisy is gonna by to serve him with a side a cranberries.

"Oswald!" Sparks cheered, giving the Lucky Rabbit a firm handshake. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

"Hey, Sparks! Donald sent me your way. Says he needs your help with something."

"He's not the only one!" Sparks moaned, running an arm under his sniffly nose. "Bertrand's and Metairie are on my case too, askin' me yuh fix up this here house so that they can own it!"

"Both of them?" Oswald questioned in shock. Bertrand and Metairie aren't exactly shy about showing their animosity toward one another. He and Ortensia got caught up in a couple of their spats.

"Bog Easy can barely survive them clashing in the streets! Forget living under the same roof!" That was a huge relief. But doesn't really explain why they both want the place. "Nah, both came to me and - with Petetronic acting as a bouncer - said that they were willing to purchase the deed to this building from me." Oswald stared at the dilapidated building with an incredulous arch of his brow. Planks of wood fell to the ground to prove that Bertrand and Metairie were three strings short of a cello for wanting this old place. "It's exactly what I said." Sparks remarked, reading Oswald's disparaging leers like a book. "They are both willing to pay me top dollar for the deed, provided I fix the place up first."

"Which is where the problem is?" Oswald assumed.

"Sharp as a tack you are, Boss!" Sparks clipped his tongue and gave him a thumbs up. "My forge went down in the last aftershock we had. Took the place off-line." Sparks forge is not only just his home, it's his workshop too. Big Easy counts on him and his forge to keep up with maintaining the land. With it down, a lot will go unfixed. "If you can help me get my forge back on, I'll help ya out with Donald, no problem."

"Deal." Oswald feasibly agreed. He didn't expect three separate issues when he came here. Good thing Sparks and Donald are his pals. Otherwise he'd be really agitated by how complicated things got. Maybe complicated is what he needs to get that voice in the back of his head to shut up. Seriously, it hasn't stopped yammering since Prescott was arrested. Going on and on about how too cut and dry this was. That they are being set up.

 **xxx**

Gus had a small smile appear on his cheeks approaching Horace's detective agency. It'll be nice to see another's friendly face after all this turmoil. " _Tedworth, be reasonable!_ " Gus's knuckles stopped an inch from the door. He arched a brow at Horace's voice. He sounds agitated. He pressed his ear to the door. " _You can't be here if you aren't going to be an assisting assistant!"_

" _I told you why I was here, and you let me come on board!_ " That was Tedworth, alright. The youngest of the Ghost Brothers. He and Horace sounded like they were ready to kill each other. The Usher read one side of this _partnership._ He completely neglected to tell Gus that Tedworth is in a bind as well. Which had him pushing that door open to a very loud debate about work ethics.

"That was contingent on you helping me with my workload!" Horace frothed.

"I have been helping you! You're the one not helping me!"

"Helping you with WHAT?! You haven't said what or who you've been looking for!"

Gus shut the door loud to announce his arrival. Horace and Tedworth blanked in embarrassment. Gus waved at them with false innocence. "Am I interrupting?"

"Gus! Hi!" Horace choked on a forced laugh. He took his hat from his sweaty head, running a hand anxiously down his neck. Tedworth spun on the air, hiding behind his typewriter and stack of papers. "Sorry about the mess." Horace moved months worth of unsolved and solved case files from one point to another, playing at getting organized. Actually, Gus looked hard enough, and there are signs of clean up underneath undermining slop. "What brings you by?"

"The Usher sent me your way. Said you were having…" He glanced to Tedworth, debating intensely on how to delicately put this, "Ghost troubles." Tedworth scathingly threw his hand into the air. Gus is such an intelligent man, yet he couldn't come up with anything less obvious. "What he neglected to mention, Tedworth," He quickly recovered, floating over to the distraught ghost, "Is that you are having problems of your own." Tedworth isn't surprised The Usher took Horace's side. Those two always colluded against him to try and shoo him out of here. "Now, now! No need for those looks." Gus patted him on the shoulder. "Perhaps I can get you both what you want, and we can settle this like good friends."

" _Friends_ is a stretch…" Tedworth trailed off grudgingly. Horace huffed agitated, turning halfway from the ghost. Gus knew it wouldn't be that easy. Roommates are never an easy thing. He sighed resignedly, "But if it means I can finally get my buddy back and get out of here, I'm all for it."

"I second that." Horace raised his hand. Anything to have the place to himself so he can get back to work.

"Grand! So…" He clapped, waiting for someone to volunteer, "What's the issue?" Horace immediately snapped his head to Tedworth. The spotlight was on the fidgeting ghost, and he didn't appreciate it. He was turning red as a cherry head to toe, literally falling into the floor to escape the scrutiny. "Come now, Tedworth, don't be such a scaredy-spook!" Gus proved what a great magician he is by reaching into the floor and pulling Tedworth into his chair at his desk. "Whatever it is, you need not be embarrassed. We are your friends here." Before Horace could snidely contradict his statement, Gus threw a plunger to his snout. "No matter what it is, you can tell us about it." Tedworth moaned, dreading that conversation. Gus pulled up a chair, all ears to what has the poor ghost bothered. Perhaps listening to another's troubles will help him come to grips with what's been relentlessly circling the back of his brain since catching Prescott.

 **xxx**

A large piece of construction parchment was spread flat to a workbench. Yensid's aged hands smoothed the parchment, lavishing in the fresh feel of untouched paper. He nodded firmly with a smile, ready to get to work. He ground up some powders that would mold terrinas on command, mixed together all new paints that will bring vibrant life to the landscape, and readied wooden figures so he can have some models for the folks he plans to add. His mind was swimming with inspiration for a new project. A sister land he can crate to add to the Wasteland he made all those years ago. Give more to his lost toons. Though he should be looking for inspiration to fixing the cracks and abrasions that tore into his precious land. He's been trying to ascertain what caused it for days. Nothing came to mind. And the one person whom he is sure can answer his inquiries was missing. As was his magic brush.

Yensid need not ponder long to know that Wasteland beckoned its cat and mouse once again. He knows Cecelia went back to Wasteland. He knows that she's with Mickey and Oswald, aiding the land in anyway she can against what caused it to tear itself apart like that. He also knows that she can take care of herself. That does not alleviate him from his concern for her wellbeing. Or of the apprehension he felt when he returned from gathering herbs and sensed a lingering cluster of energy. Someone used powerful magic before he returned, and the mess he saw told him Cecelia fought back. She barely survived last year. Knowing she was risking her life for a second time...he wondered if fate loved taking those he loved from him.

 _Knock-knock-knock,_ came raps from the hallway behind him right as his fingers hovered near his spare paintbrush. His eyes lit up at his teenage granddaughter returning looked as ragged as an old doll. "CECELIA!" He cried. This was surprising. Not her being alive. No, he never doubted her. Just she doesn't get the drop on him. Ever. Cecelia gave one of the weakest smiles in a hello, knowing full well she wasn't hiding her discontent. She felt a little guilty. She's missed her grandpa. "Welcome back!" Yensid took three large steps and he was squeezing her in a bear hug. He tangled ah and in her long hair, running the other up and down her back. She let herself be smothered. She didn't have the strength to fight back. Actually..she was done fighting all together. She languidly lifted her hands, clutching at his robes in a pitiful attempt to return the hug. "Sweet girl, you had me worried sick the past few days." He broke the hug so he could get a good look at her. He swears she gets taller every time she returns. "How was your…" He was cupping her cheeks when he trailed off at how sunken she was. Her clothes hanging loosely on her body like she had become emaciated from malnutrition. Her cheeks were sunken to their bones. And her eyes...they were void. They weren't meeting his gaze, just staying on his robes. Even so, it was like they were taking her somewhere beyond his tower. "Cecelia?" He called her again, tilting her head up by the chin. His heart tore to ribbons. There was redness around her eyes like she'd been crying. And...he can't quite place his finger on it...but her presence isn't as...torrential as it usually is. The impetuousness that she exudes would have alerted him long before she snuck up on him. If he wasn't looking at her...he wouldn't even know she was here. "Cecelia, talk to me. Are you alright?" She flinched. Is she alright? How many times has she been asked that...and she's never answered because she didn't want to break down. She didn't want anyone to see that she wasn't remotely alright. That she was falling apart at the seams, and wishes it wasn't frowned upon to blow up things to release stress. It was making her shake. "Sweetheart...what's the matter?" Yensid kept pressing. She bowed her head, shaking her head wildly. She was grounding her teeth. Ynesid was getting scared. She isn't saying a word...and he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Did something happen?" And that was the hook that yanked the grenade pin holding everything in. She threw herself into Yensid, crushing him in a snug hug, catching him off guard. She buried her face in his robes. Howling sobs were muffled in the thick fabric. She was shaking uncontrollably. Her knees buckled, bringing Yensid to the ground with her. She was hyperventilating, clawing at Yensid so he couldn't escape. Something happened, alright. The worst possible thing that could ever happen to a sorcerer...and former girlfriend. A punishment for her folly, a swift dose of karma, and a smack to the face for how easily she was duped. "Okay...okay." He acquiesced, wrapping his arms to her. He sat there in silence, listening to her sob...and to his heart coming undone. This is the second time he's watched her crumble. The second time he's seen her spirit be broken. And just like before...he can do nothing but sit, wait, and console her in anyway he can. His preferred method - staying right by her side. "I've got you, Cecelia. When you're ready, I'm going to be right here like I always have."

 **To be continued.**


	25. In the Back of the Mind

**In the Back of the Mind**

 **Moving on.**

 **xxx**

Four pages of items to pack into Laralee's museum in order to stay her wrath from poor, unsuspecting future patrons. Hundreds of artifacts that are undoubtedly junk to others, but are about to be refurbished and turned into treasures. The list was very... _exotic_ , if one was looking to call it strange but sound polite about it. The story book Belle and Beast read and a Candelabra. A fork that had strand of red hair in it. An arabian rug and an old oil lamp. A cowboy doll, and a space ranger action figure. The list goes on. Mickey cannot grasp in the slightest what anyone would find interesting about these things. But Laralee wanted them, so he will go get them. Although, if he was going to be frank, it wasn't so much the list of items that tilted his head. It's the locations Laralee jotted down where to find them. Bertrand's home in Bog Easy, The flower bed outside of Ortensia's home, the rooftop of the Gag Factory, etc, etc. Laralee knew what she wanted, and where to find them. The woman is scary diligent to the point of needing someone to report her and have her spend a night in prison to sort herself out. Maybe seeing Prescott will help her straighten herself out. Mickey is sure put off by villainy. Seems to either land someone dead, exiled, or locked up. And...he was already on the receiving end of guilt and Oswald's disdain once. He doesn't intend to go back there again.

This list is no small job. This will take him a while to complete. His best bet would be to begin where he was - Mean Street South - and then branch out. He is drawing a line going into the Underground, Floatyard, and DEC for Laralee's list. He doesn't want to back track to places that have a good track record for nearly killing him.

"Mickey! There you are!" Ortnesia beckoned him, strutting up with a purse strapped to her shoulder.

"Ortensia, hi! What's up?" He gave her a hug. She really is a sight for sore eyes. Oswald really got lucky when he got her. She brightens up rooms.

Her bright demeanor dimmed dramatically. "Is it true?" She moaned, cupping her hands together with pleading eyes. Mickey raised a curious brow, unsure who she is referring to. Ortensia moved in closer, lowering her voice to a somber whisper. "Prescott." Mickey cringed from a shock at his name. "Was he really behind this? Is he the one that stole Cecelia's magic?"

Mickey took Ortensia by the hand, leading her to the manhole into the Underground. He hid her with him in a corner facing out to the fog filled abyss. He made sure no one was lurking, looking, or remotely close by them. Ortensia was a little scared, but relaxed when Mickey seemed to lighten up. "Did Daisy tell you that?"

"Clarabelle, actually. It's all over the radio!" She stressed. Mickey slapped a hand to his face in frustration. Flesh or mech, Daisy has the biggest mouth of anyone he has known. The innate and irritating inability to keep the smallest thing to herself, or keep her beak out of other people's business causing disasters that make Mother Nature weep. His Daisy is less dangerous, though. She covers media stories in order to uncover the truth. This Daisy just goes wherever there's drama and creates more of it. Like talking about things she doesn't have the full story on and causing uproar like Ortensia's. "So...it is true." Ortensia sighed sadly. Mickey exhaled in defeat, bobbing his head. Ortensia put her hands over her eyes, shaking her head. "No, no. Why? Why would he do this to us? To her?"

"We asked him the same questions." Mickey handed her a handkerchief for her sniffles. Ortensia blew her nose like a trumpet. Nevermind. Trumper Gremlin was walking by, practicing on his trumpet. "And he said it was because he can." Mickey disposed of it. Snot grosses him out. Ortensia was distraught, but like Mickey she didn't buy that half baked excuse for a moment. "Yeah, I know. That's what we said too. There's more to it than that." And he refuses to let anyone tell him otherwise. "Prescott is a grouch, a traitor, seriously lacks social graces, and is really abrasive when he talks to people," And the more he lists of his shortcomings, the more he questions how Cecelia fell in love with such an introvert, "But he's never done anything without solid logic behind it."

"Exactly!" Ortensia said louder than she meant. "He obsessed over every detail on the gremlins' old project on Mickeyjunk Mountain to point where he wouldn't let non-symmetrical parts be used!" See now, Mickey would have quit if he was asked for symmetry in what he does. "He would never betray anyone unless there was a solid reason behind it!"

"Well we can't ask him for that solid reason. He's out cold in the jail."

"Oh dear! Is he alright?"

"He's fine...just…" Mickey had to think about it for a second. He hummed pensively to himself.

"What's up?" Ortensia fretted for the scowl in his brow.

"Honestly...I'm trying to figure that." That nagging bug in the back of his head grew louder. Prescott was fine...until The Doc showed up.

"By the way…" Ortensia gently interrupted his train of thought, "Have you seen Cecelia?"

Mickey grimaced in shock. _That's right! She hasn't heard._ "Umm...well…" He trailed off.

 **xxx**

An early morning is Yensid's preferred time of day to begin on his projects. The creative juices that brewed overnight were at their peak potency, anxious to pour over what he deemed as his canvas. At least, he hopes he can produce some sort of stroke on his canvas today. His attention has been strained as of late. He has a number of projects and duties that demand his attention, yet he's put them aside. Not that he can rightfully chastise himself for falling behind in his work. The young lady in the garden outside his workshop window occupied a great deal of his mind. In fact, he was strutting away from his workbench toward that window, curious if the kitten was still hiding behind some semblance of work to avoid him. Sure enough, there she was. Cecelia digging at the Cani-Weeds feeding off the roots of his prized garden of fruits, veggies, herbs, and a variety of other homegrown ingredients that should be nearing ripe for picking.

Cani-Weeds are a dangerous species of vermin that sprout in magic grown gardens. Think of them as Venus Flytraps with serious attitude...and they don't eat flies. Normal weeds are morphed into flesh hungering vermin by foreign concoctions poured to the soil in order to expedite growth. They've taken off many a green thumb in their pursuit to absorb the nutrients meant for the crops and become strong enough to rip themselves free to devour what hasn't withered. Yensid himself fears these meddlesome beasts. No taller than a person's knee caps though they may be, they aren't the easiest to be disposed of. The only way to kill them without killing the crops is to wait for them to sprout and hopefully catch them before they grow into snarling monsters. That being said, no one faces down these creatures without a sword, a shield, and pruning shears drench in weed killer. NOT CECELIA! Yensid's stomach was doing somersaults. Cecelia was sitting Indian style, an elbow on her knee and her knuckles propping her cheek, poking at four that had surrounded with great disinterest with a little spade. The weeds left skinny trenches in their path arduous, slides to her. Snapping their jaws just inches from her flesh and snarling at her with venom dripping saliva. She just ignored them. Honestly, it didn't look like she registered the danger she was in at all. She was in a whole other plane from this one.

Speaking of registering...her presence was...barely there. He sees her. She's sitting right there. Though...again...unless he had looked out the window, he wouldn't have even known if she was still there. Yensid's fingers were curling on the window sill. He thought it was a fluke. Possibly a spur of the moment, he was excited to see her, astonished by her breakdown, slip in his senses. But it was not so. Cecelia is a talented sorceress. One of the best considering she's a halfling. Let that fact never be brought up again. Otherwise...another incident might be excited. Anyway, digressing back - Cecelia is remarkable for someone her age. But her discipline in managing the power within her is less than impressive. Granted, she has more power than normal sorcerers. The magic that remained dormant in her mother passed into her. But Cecelia has never sought a reason to supress what gushes out of her, giving her a presence similar to a suprnova. Right now...she was barely a candle trying to remain lit in a breeze. And for the life of him, Yensid can't figure what has caused such a dramatic decrease. It could be she's learned to tame her rampant powers. It's possible...but he sensed something else entirely. As if a piece of her is missing. It was frustrating that he can't come up with an explanation. He'd love to ask her. But she hasn't breathed a word - save for Good mornings and thank yous - since her return.

It's been a full day since Cecelia returned home. She hasn't spoken much about Wasteland...or what happened that caused her to be so saddened. She just told Yensid that all was well. He wasn't fooled. The night she returned, she cried herself to sleep in Yensid's arm. Her expression oozed with heartbreak, the aura wafting from her begged him to not leave her side the whole time. As if she desperately needed companionship to sleep through the night. By the morning, she had calmed down considerably...but she remained in her room - in bed! She just sat there that whole day and night. Just staring out her window...at nothing. Her poor eyes were stained by black rings, her soft cheeks were cold to the touch and sunken. Her complexion was even paler. She barely ate a thing. And those strange gloves and that belt she came with were stuffed so far in the back of her closet with her spellbook that Yensid would have forgotten all about them had he not gone to retrieve the cauldron he let her borrow a while back. It was as if she was willfully trying to forget this last expedition to Wasteland. Burying all remnants of it wherever she can...not having the heart to throw them out. He knows she left her spellbook in Wasteland. Said she dropped it but wasn't worried about it. It was in good hands. Now she doesn't want to even think about it. Let alone look at it. This morning, however, she astonished by him waking up at the crack of dawn - giving him a more lively hello and hug - and was already hard at work in his garden clearing weeds and gathering ingredients for him. She successfully dealt with the ones that surrounded her. She used the spade as a harness, making it sharper than any blade. Quick and effortless swipes decapitated the weeds. Their bodies shriveled, and she threw the heads in her basket. It was unnerving how many were there...and that she was taking their heads without blinking. He didn't miss how on a couple her face broke from blank to enraged and she stabbed their fallen heads until nothing was left. Yensid was dying to know what caused her to shut herself in. But he wasn't going to stroke that sour chord. She's clearly not ready to talk about it. He can see through the barriers she is placing around herself that she is trying her hardest to come to terms with what she endured, accept that she can't erase it. A challenge that Cecelia may never be able to overcome.

"Lyra…" He breathed with a bow of his head, turning to meander to his table, "Tell me…" He pleaded, delicately picking up a brush, "When will she cease to carry all her burdens herself?" If his late daughter could just tell him when Cecelia will learn she is not alone...he would be eternally grateful.

 **xxx**

See now, when Oswald went to Bog Easy he expected to have a bit of a rough time with Donald and his boat/date issues. He didn't expect to be stuck in Bog Easy a day and a half helping Sparks fix up his forge in order to help Donald get to his date. The power to Sparks' entire forge was tied to a generator he left unguarded in the swamp near the mechanical band. He thought it was a good idea at the time, seeing as how having the generator be within two feet of his forge would tempt others to sabotage him. And no, that wasn't a paranoid fear, it was a reality. The Gremlins may consider each other brother, but they aren't above sabotaging one another to get on top. Copernicus messes with the Game-Grem Gremlin at the arcade all the time. Pulls the plugs on his store so that he'll lose all his stats and have to start over. This made Oswald lose all sympathy for Sparks, and tempted him to just pick up and walk away. But if he did that then the people of Bog Easy would be out a resident handyman...and they need all the help they can get when living in this swamp.

Besides, it wasn't so much as getting the generator up and running that kept Oswald for practically two days. It's that Sparks needed a boatload of scrap metal in order to get the forge, Donald's boat, AND the old house on the street back in working order. The last time Oswald had to get that much scrap metal, Jamface was fixing up the windmill and a blast door. But even that only took a couple of hours to collect. Gus, Cecelia, and Mickey helped him out a lot. Now he was on his own, digging through every inch of Bog Easy to get three hundred pieces of scrap metal for a gremlin that was running on all four cylinders at six hundred miles per hour. It terrified Oswald that he might run himself into an early grave, taking away his reluctant to lift a finger for him. He burned through 20 batteries powering up the forge, welding pieces of scrap metal where Sparks needed them and protecting him from blotlings lurking in the bushes. Eventually the forge was up and running like new. Sparks had thrown in another generator to give him a boost.

"Good as new. Thanks, Oswald. Sorry for the long hours." Sparks chuckled bashfully. He really didn't mean for it to take this long.

"Hey... _huff-huff…_ " Oswald was about to pass out on Sparks' work table, "As long...as...we can fix...Donald's boat… _WOOF_ …" He collapsed like a limp noodle, letting a thumbs up finish his sentence. If he's being honest, he really needed the distraction. There's been this bug in his ear playing the same tune about Prescott the whole time. Screaming for him to go back and take another look. But another look at what? Prescott was behind it...right?

Sparks laughed at the pooped bunny. "Yep! I'm all set to fix up Donald's boat!" He said with such confidence...then mumbled with some bad news. Oswald's ear perked up. He groaned with dread. He swear if he hears a _but_ he will throw the nearest object at Sparks. "But-WHOA!" He ducked for his life. Oswald chucked a wrench at him. He missed. "BUT," Sparks sprouted with a knight's helmet on, "I would be able to make vast improvements to his boat and the old house if I had a gear that Ghost Gilbert stole from me!" A muffle bounced of the helmet, striking like a gong. Sparks lifted the helmet off. His eyes racked in their sockets.

"Why would Gilbert take a gear from you?!"

"He was chasin' folks around in that Doom Buggy of his. So I took it and put it where he would never find it."

"His brothers let him have a car?!" Oswald's voice broke. Giving Gilbert a car? Without supervising him while in it? Those guys were begging for this sort of trouble!

"Gilbert took my gear to get back at me. Hid it in that graveyard by the mausoleum!" He snarled. "Get that gear back, and I'll have Donald's boat and the old building lookin' better than ever!" Oswald groaned in tedium. It's like he's doing a favor for a favor...to get a favor. He hated stuff like that. But if it means getting out of Bog Easy before tomorrow...Sparks can consider him already there.

 **xxx**

Cecelia tossed the last of the Cani-Weeds into a bottomless trash can. The enchantment turning it into a swirling vortex would transport the waste somewhere in the universe. She doesn't know where...and she really didn't care. With those irritating weeds out of the way she was finally free to move about the garden without anymore obstacles. Granted, it would have been much faster had she decided to zap them with a quick spell here and there, chase them off with something more than a hexed gardening tool. Unfortunately, that would require her to tap into her spellbook's magic and...well...she hasn't exactly gotten around to telling Yensid that 95% of her magic is gone. Keeping an unstable core from incinerating Wasteland. Why hasn't she told him? Because that would mean telling him that she left her spellbook with her grouch of a boyfriend - who is now her ex-boyfriend incarcerated for treason - and taught him how to wield magic, and wound up having her own magic ripped right out of her. Because of her...Wasteland and everyone she cared for over there were nearly killed. She handed an unstable man the keys to ruling a kingdom without breaking a sweat! She should have learned her lesson from last year! Instead she left herself open. _It's all my fault! I failed Grandpa! Failed Oswald, Mickey, Ortensia, Gus, Jamface - EVERYONE!_ She doesn't deserve to be a sorceress! She doesn't deserve to be Wasteland's Hero! The only thing she deserves IS having her magic ripped out of her...TWICE! _Grandpa...what will you say?!_ She can't tell him! She can never tell him! She just can't! He...he'll...WHO KNOWS WHAT HE'LL SAY! What he'll do! He'll think she's irresponsible! He'll call her failure! He'll never trust her again! He'll send her back to that council of idiots and have her confined in a 90 year old's body instead of a ten year old! No! She can never let him find out!

Cecelia slapped herself across the face. "STOP IT! ENOUGH! It's behind you now! Get back to work!" She scolded herself. She buried the glove, the belt, and her spellbook in the back of her closet. In a week or so, this will be nothing but a bad memory. She needs to focus on the here and now. She was reading the list Yensid had given her, scrunching her face baffled. "Mandrake roots, petrified slug snot, teeth of a Cani-Weed, warts from a frog weed, pollen from the flowers...and the newspapers the fairy post of slipping under his welcome bush?" Incidentally, she was right next the the Welcome Bush.

"Oh man!"

"WELCOME!" It blurted heartily, scaring Cecelia ten feet into the air. She pounded on her chest, trying to keep her heart from bursting. She's been living around that thing her whole life and STILL it scares the ever living Jessamines out of her. She saw the newspapers Yensid was talking about. There were weeks of them snuck under the bush. Yensid will never subscribe so they leave their stuff where they hope he'll cave and be suckered. Too bad for them he's smarter than the fairies. He left a side note on what he wants done with the papers. _Push them into the abyss._ And Cecelia gave that mountain of papers the boot off the ledge and watched them fall into the abyssal space that surrounds the tower.

Getting back on topic, she had to finish gathering what she needs for an experiment Yensid wanted her to do. What that experiment is? He hasn't said. He promises it's nothing major. Just a little test to see how _organized_ she's become. He said it with such mocking skepticism that she fell for his challenge. But, this is going off topic. The list, THE LIST! The reason Cecelia ogled the list oddly wasn't because of the newspapers. It's because just finished gathering this exact same list of ingredients for him the previous day. She got him enough to last him for six months. His garden is enormous. Usually cared for by Gnomes, but they are out for a wedding. Juliet and Gnomeo finally tied the knot. The amount Yensid is asking for will force her to start looking toward the ingredients that weren't ready yet. Then she'd have to note down what she took, what ones aren't ready, and which ones she would need to replace if she damaged them or prematurely picked them. This would be much easier if she wasn't trying to hide her secret from him. But, it's the price she's paying. She needs to live with it. Anything to keep from losing her grandfather's respect. She wouldn't be able to function.

As Cecelia worked so diligently, and gradually grew more intense, Yensid observed her from his window again. He knit his brow with a perturbed grunt. He may be ancient by conventional terms, but his attention to detail is sharper than it was in his prime years. "Two days…" Cecelia's hands were marred by scars, dirt, and other blemishes, going raw to the bone from all of her digging. The knee of her stocking had worn away. The skin of her knees was peeling from rummaging around. The amount of exertion she's putting into his _task_ was unnecessary. Very...unnecessary. Especially for his granddaughter who is the queen of finding shortcuts. Her biggest shortcut...seems to be taking a backseat for a ridiculous amount of time. "Two days...no magic…" He turned to the stairs leading to her room. His brow knit curiously again as he recalled the strange gloves and belt, and her discarded spellbook.

 **xxx**

"HIS TEDDY BEAR!" Gus fumed at the top of his lungs, scaring half the blotlings in Blot Alley into their holes. The Splahdooshes didn't even explode from being disturbed from their slumber. They just got the Sweepers and Dropwings to roll them out of the way of the time bomb known as Gus. The gremlin can become terrifying when he wants to be. "Of all the idiotic reason to bother someone...A TEDDY BEAR!" He spouted a series of very colorful words, prompting Censor Monkey Blots to gasp in horror and plug the ears of the innocent Seer Blots. The nerve of someone using that sort of language. How dare they! Gus didn't care who heard him right now. And, yes, anyone can claim he's overreacting and being very belligerent. But this would really irritate anyone.

Horace's detective agency is supported and paid for by the People of Wasteland. Yes, they do have taxes and those taxes go into getting him the resources he needs in order to close cases fast, efficiently, and with little collateral damage. Naturally, his workload got bigger than he could handle and he needed an Assistant. Tedworth volunteered himself, promising to be a big help. Yeah...NOPE! The only reason Tedworth volunteered to help was because he needed Horace's resources to find - wait for it… … … - HIS BLASTED TEDDY BEAR THAT HE SLEEPS WITH EVERY NIGHT! Yes! That's right! Tedworth made Horace fall behind on his work, threw away valuable taxpayer ebucks...for his stuffed toy. Why he couldn't go buy another one was anyone's guess! But Tedworth was dead bent on finding HIS teddy that HIS big brothers tore apart and scattered in Blot Alley! He's been looking for it since BEFORE the quake hit. Poor Horace. So for what Gus can assume is going on three days now...he saw a clock. NOPE! Was still the night of day two. That seriously killed his soul. Anyway, for ALMOST three days, Gus has been rummaging all around Bog Easy to find this Teddy Bear, asking everyone and anyone if they knew about it, and finally found his way into Blot Alley. He got snickers for looking for a stuffed toy, but he didn't care. Laughters was preferable to that guilty ridden gnawing that was telling him to investigate the Prescott matter further.

Gus came across Ian on his search for the missing Teddy and outright asked why they tore it into pieces. And before Ian decides to give him some roundabout excuse, or tries to make a joke of the situation, Gus will remind him that Wastelander dollars are being wasted on this obsessive venture he's on. Horace can't work because of him. Ian saw the severity of the situation and assured Gus that it wasn't all done in malice or trickery. It's because Tedworth has been sleeping with that bear since he had skin and was a child. He takes that thing everywhere. Shopping, swimming, bathing, pooping, SKYDIVING! Tedworth would not give it up. So one day Ian and his bros found the teddy bear, took it, tore it, and threw it all over Blot Alley hoping to wean Tedworth off of it. Obviously their plan failed. They wondered why they haven't seen their baby brother in a while. Ian and his brothers didn't mean to cause any trouble. They just want their little brother to grow up. He's a GHOST for crying out loud. He shouldn't be scared of the dark! Gus understands where he is coming from, and respects that Ian and his brothers were looking out for their youngest sibling. But now their little stunt is causing a economic issue, and they are already paying out their hides to fix the quake damage. Ian got the hint in an instant. He went to get Sam, Gabriel, and Fineas and they started looking for their brother's bear parts. Gus was glad the ghosts decided to help. He didn't know where to begin.

"Gus, I am glad I caught you!" The accented voice of Jamface beckoned him from the air. The purple gremlin dove for his protege, stopping on a dime...and wafting a little dust in his face.

"Jamface! Good to see you!" Gus shook his hand heartily. He moved in close, lowering his voice to a whisper, "How is our little problem coming?"

Jamface triple checked for anyone lingering nearby. "I've managed to work around ze field Cecelia put around zat core." And he will spare details on how difficult that was. The girl knows how to prepare for the worst. "With Copernicus and Blue-Ben, I've devised a way to direct the rampant flow of power so that it will leak out. Zat way, we can get to work on stabilizing zat zthing and have less to worry about."

"Great!" And once that core is stable, Cecelia will be able to come back and collect her magic. Things are finally looking up. "Keep at it."

"I will!" Jamface saluted. "By ze way…" He cupped his hands together, "If you see Cecelia, can you tell her none of zis is her fault?" He implored heartfelt. "I know she probably zthinks it is…" He shook his head with a stern expression, "But it is not so. No one blames her."

Gus smiled with a small tear in his eye. "I will. Thank you." Jamface nodded and took off back to the Floatyard. "If I see Cecelia..." He moaned somberly. She's been gone well over two days...and was pretty certain she wouldn't come back. "I don't think that will be anytime soon." Though, he did look to the night stars...hoping that he's wrong. "How are you doing, I wonder."

 **xxx**

"UUUGGGHHH…" That was it. She cashed in all her chips. She waved the white flag. She can't take anymore. Cecelia went into the kitchen and sprawled herself over the table, smothering her face in an oven mitt. On top of spending the better part of two days playing gardener, Cecelia spent the ENTIRE night last night reorganizing Yensid's ridiculously large pantry of spices, herbs, and other junk sorcerers use in their daily lives. And LUCKY HER she doesn't have a normal sorcerer grandfather! She got the guy that has an overhaul of every single ingredient known to sorcerer kind. A dozen of this, five dozen of that! Three weeks on top of two months of one thing, a year's worth of this that already had a previous year's worth! And a majority of it weighed 50 pounds each. Even those deceptive small boxes weighed more than a bundle of lead. And that maniac had Cecelia in the closet, climbing ladders and stools that were long past their lifespan, reorganizing everything by a system that made absolutely no sense...and then asking her to start over. He was insane! Absolutely insane! She really wants to know what she did because she knows that she's being punished for SOMETHING! "Please, someone, stick a fork in me!"

"That wouldn't be very healthy." Yensid quipped, meaning causally past to the food pantry. Cecelia was consumed with chills. If he asks her to reorganize that monstrosity she will jump out the window and practice her swan dives. Yensid hummed pensively, playfully stroking his beard. He set a box he got on her back. She was too exhausted to groan at how not amused she was. "I don't recall buying this table setting."

"Special order called, _Survivor of Slave labor."_ She snarled. She'd glare at him, but that would require she move a muscle below her eyebrows.

Yensid poked her tenderized body a couple times. "A little worn out for my taste. Can I get a refund? Or at least an exchange?"

"No substitutions or refunds. Was right there in the clause you signed!"

Yensid chuckled at her. "A little sore, are we?" He teased, removing the box. "Yesterday was pretty harsh on you."

 _PRETTY...HARSH?!_ Cecelia got her second wind and pushed up on her elbows. "That's what happens when you ask someone to go get more ingredients than what you need, then tell them their experiment is to reorganize the entire closet of magical junk and recipes!" She rolled off the table. "Seriously!" She came in with a box over her head and slammed it onto the table. A wall of feathers exploded into their faces. "Who needs five boxes of molted pegasus wings?!"

"Well, I never said you had to do it by hand. Although," Yensid slyly snapped his fingers. The feather poofed back into the box, "You did get the job done in a matter of hours. Not a bad feat." He wiggled his fingers, sending the box back into the closet. _Show off!_ Cecelia snarled. "You could have used your magic." Her muscles spasmed. She bit on the inside of her cheek. Her brow knit. Yensid made a mental note. He's let her cope for three days. He's also worn her down. Time to go in for the kill. "Here. I have two surprises for you." He reached into his sleeve, drawing his wand. He motioned for her to hold out her hands. He tapped her palms. A jar of green gel appeared. "Spread this gel to where it hurts." Cecelia was about to ask him to conjure up a tub of this stuff. She's sore everywhere. "And I made your favorite." He tapped the table twice. A breakfast feast emerged from puffs of smoke. Cecelia's jaw hit the floor, drool gushing out like a river. "French Toast, Hash Browns, eggs, and apple juice." Enough to feed three people. Cecelia was so sore that she hadn't realized that she was starving.

"Thanks, Grandpa!" Cecelia got plates for her and him, happily pouring him some juice too. Yensid kept his hands a safe distance as she grabbed what she wanted. It pleased him that her appetite was back. "You never lose your touch.." In magic or cooking.

"I'd say you haven't lost your touch either," He started cutting into his French toast, pausing to slyly glance at Cecelia as she lifted the syrup, "But I believe you asked me to never treat you as if you lack intelligence." Cecelia stopped in mid tip, the syrup sitting on the edge of the spout. She raised a brow at him. "I would ask you grant me the same courtesy." He said with such a menacing tone that Cecelia feared that someone would be behind her with a wand at her head. She was completely missing what he was getting at. Tensed can see she genuinely wasn't catching his hint. Being subtle was not the proper approach for someone running from an issue. So he pressed harder. "Cecelia, did you really think I wouldn't notice it? Your presence...your magic really...is greatly diminished. Almost nonexistent." Cecelia just stopped. Every inch of her seized up. Her breath hitched in her throat, her tongue dried and went into knots. The shock that struck her had her wrist tilt further. Her fingers subconsciously tightened, and she was pouring the whole container of syrup to her French toast...to the table...and to her lap.

"What…" Was all she managed to squeak.

"The equipment you came back with," Yensid reaches under the table, setting the gloves and belt she brought with her from Wasteland, and her spell book to the table, "Clearly is a stimulant to help you siphon magic from your spellbook." Cecelia's hand lost its strength. She dropped the syrup jar and it rolled and shattered on the floor. That jar represented her soul. Everything inside her just spilled out. She was sinking in her seat, dropping like a limp noodle. She slumped to the table in defeat, her mortified face plopping into her breakfast. _He knew!_ She screamed in her head. _He knew the whole time!_ He probably figured it out her first day back. That's why he kept asking all of these ridiculous tasks of her. He was wearing her out. Trying to break down her barriers so that he can pounce. He's got his claws and teeth in her. Nothing she says will discourage him. She could try. But she's too exhausted to creatively lie her way out of this. _Not that I should be surprised._ Yensid isn't stupid. She should just be glad he waited instead of coming at her from the start. "Are you ready to talk about what happened?" He quizzed her.

"I don't know…" She whimpered rasping. "I don't even know where to start from…" She folded her arms to hiding herself, "So you won't be disappointed." He needs to just let her drown in her syrup murdered French toast.

Yensid's heart cracked. A small, sympathetic smile showed on his lips. He reached to her, touched her arm, and lightly caressed her forearm. "Start at the beginning." He picked her face out of her breakfast, trying not to laugh at the syrup mask coating her face. "And I promise to never be disappointed." He did, however, take a piece of his French toast and scooped up some syrup from her cheek. Cecelia growled irately. Her expression screaming, _SERIOUSLY!_ "What?! I can listen and eat. I'm hungry." He put it in his mouth. _Don't kill him, don't kill him, do-not-kill him!_ She lapped up some syrup - mentally savoring the tangy strawberry taste - with vengeance on the brain. _Torture him!_

 **xxx**

The three heroes collapsed in the middle of Mean Street North on top of one another. They didn't think they could do it...but by some strange miracle they finished the ridiculous assignments given to them. Now...all Wasteland has to do is mind itself for an hour or two...and they will I'll be eternally grateful.

"Anything?" Mickey moaned. If Mickey never sees another scrap of soon to be refurbished trash it will be too soon. Honestly, Laralee is an absolute nut job asking for a pinwheel that sat in Roy Disney's car, or a replica of the shoe that Cinderella lost, or the fake teeth of that old man from the short in the Bug's Life movie! And there were four pages of this stuff. FOUR PAGES! 100 items a page. Mickey had to dumpster dive for 20% of this stuff, climb to ridiculous heights for 25% of it, claw his way through narrow crevices and in the sewers for 41%, and the remaining 24% would be him knocking on doors and asking for it. And the looks he got on every single instance was enough to make him follow Cecelia's lead and running away in sheer, soul crushing defeat! He got a full slap by Clara Cluck when he asked for something called bloomers...and then learned what those are and buried his head in the sand for an hour. He felt like there were angels singing Hallelujah for him when he finally finished.

"Nothing worth mentioning." Oswald was sad to say. Oswald's work was slightly less mortifying. But boy was it annoying. Gilbert was the most unreasonable Ghost Oswald could ever come into contact with. He poured his plight out for Gilbert and those creepy head busts in that graveyard to see, explaining that he needs the gear he took so he can fix up Sparks's forge so he can fix up Donald's boat so he can take Daisy on a date. Oswald ran out of breath four different times. Gilbert listened...then totally threw him a curveball by stating that none of this would be happening if Sparks hadn't taken his Doom Buggy, and that he had the perfect plan for revenge. A fake gear for the naughty Gremlin. Gilbert wasn't denying he had the gear, but he would be grateful to Oswald if he gave the fake gear to Sparks and let his forge come apart. Oswald wasn't going to help with that. Sparks told him that Gilbert has a special method involving the graves and their tombstones that will unlock the secret space where he hides his stuff. Gilbert tried his hardest to sabotage Oswald, but in the end the Lucky Rabbit proved he's also the Clever Rabbit and got Sparks gear back. The forge was up and running, and a few more hours later Donald was sailing off on his boat to go get his lady love for their date.

"Same here. I have nothing." Gus hated to admit. Yet all three of them haven't escaped that feeling that they are being played. If anything, it's gotten worse. Gus would like to say that his task was a little less troublesome...and it was! Seriously it was, but he was still exhausted. He had a devilishly easier time than Oswald and Mickey, but the headache he accrued wasn't anything to scoff at. The better part of three days in Bog Easy will drive anyone batty. Especially when you're stuck in Blot Alley trying to find Teddy Bear pieces while fending off blotlings. Found those easily, by the way. Thanks to the Ghost Brothers, Teddy was reassembled and brought back to Tedworth, prompting the youngest ghost to head on back home. That should have solved the initial issue right then and there. Tedworth was back home, and Horace was free of Tedworth and was able to get back to work. Nope. No such luck. Horace underestimated the weight Tedworth took off his shoulders by being there. Sure, it wasn't much help...but it was better than shuffling through the mess on his own. Tedworth's organizational skills were invaluable. Now Horace has to find a new assistant, and he doesn't have time to do interviews. He did, however, have some down time to compile a list of people he would like to be his partner. Beluga billy, Goofy, Elle from the camera shop, Clarabelle...that last one he went a little dry in the mouth. He was steadily reconsidering her as a possible partner. Gus, on the other hand, found Clarabelle to be the perfect partner. She has the essence that a detective like Horace needs. She's creative, well organized, isn't afraid to get her hands dirty, and is always up to date on the latest and juiciest of gossip. Usually before Daisy. She's certainly more qualified than the others. Here's where the exhausting part comes in. Gus decided to skip over everyone on Horace's list, went to Clarabelle and told her about Horace's predicament. She was happy to help...she just required a special costume for her precious Spatters. Sunflower costumes, to be exact. That is where his trip became arduous...and he is really glad he has friends everywhere. Otherwise he'd be gone for a week trying to find the fabric to make sunflower costumes. Anyway, once he got the costumes, Clarabelle went to Horace...and the rest is history. Gus didn't stick around to find out if she got the job. He'll find out.

"What are we missing?" Oswald growled in the back of his throat, pulling at his ears. He knows they are missing this big, cosmic sign that is steadily losing patience with them. But what is it?! WHAT?! "What in the name of Turps and Tints are we missing?"

"Don't you mean who?" Mickey somberly countered, looking to an infinitely blank space beside them. Gus and Oswald exhaled sadly, glancing to where the smiling kitten would be...only to see a fading phantom. The hole Cecelia left was getting bigger. And all because she left Wasteland in such a broken state. "It's been three days. She has to have noticed I haven't come back yet."

"Maybe…" Gus slipped from under the boys, helping them both stand."But we know this isn't something she'll get over. Not any time soon."

"I know…" Mickey sank, rubbing his arm. "I just hate that we can't do anything."

"We all do." Oswald agreed. It's just something they have to come to grips with. If she comes back while Mickey is still there, then she will. Until then...they really need to sort out...what it is that they are missing...when nothing is there!

Three days of lending a hand to anyone who needed an extra boost. Just everyday grinds the folks of Wasteland were enduring to get back on their feet. Under normal circumstances, Oswald, Mickey, and Gus would consider this a minor win on their chart. Instead it felt like they were being clowned. Granted, it felt good to help their friends. But the three just can't shake the feeling they are spinning their wheels and going absolutely nowhere fast. They half expect to look back and see a chain anchored to a tree holding them in place. That nagging feeling that some shadow was lurking in their shadows had only grow like the parasite it is. Aside from helping with the morale boost, nothing concrete to what sort of _secrets_ still lurked was solidifying. No _secret_ was uncovered, no great mysteries presenting themselves in subtle hints, and Laralee was the only threat in the past couple of days. NOTHING WAS WRONG! EVERYTHING WAS RIGHT! WASTELAND WAS ON THE VERGE OF REBUILDING! So why...why...WHY can't they shake the feeling they are being laughed at behind their backs? They need to talk to Prescott, and they are going to do it now. Big Bad was amicable last time, but Gus was ready to tear his pegleg out and use it as a doorstop.

 **xxx**

"Yeah, sure, go right in." Big Bad shrugged, sweeping a welcoming hand into the jail. Those three did not see that coming AT ALL! "He just woke up. Keep it short." He was preoccupied with his 20th magazine. The stack beside him was starting to lean like the meat he was drooling over. Gus glanced to the boys, really expecting a cage to fall on them the second they stepped inside. They swallowed large lumps and simultaneously took a step in. They cringed and braced themselves...poked a wandering eye open...and then eased themselves inside. For once it wasn't a trap. Though they took Big Bad's words to heart. They will keep this short as possible. Because if they're right and something bigger is going on behind their backs, talking with Prescott slaps targets right on their spines.

Prescott was tediously flicking pebbles at the spiders crawling on the walls. There was a little delight in watching them scatter. Seeing them scuttle to their webs in the corners, or in the holes riddling the ceiling. When he'd actually hit one, he was impassive to them lying on their backs and their legs curling into their stomachs. He snorted at the small squeaks they made while dying. Throats clearing halted the next rock nesting on his thumb. He knit his brow heatedly, rolling his eyes to the troublesome trio outside his cell. "Well, well, look who decided to grace me with their presence!" He scoffed contemptuously. "Don't I feel just so honored!" He batted long, ladylike eyelashes with mockingly pursed lips. Oswald was really put off by his haughty attitude. It's not their fault he's in there. Won't stop him from trying to make it that way, though. Mickey and Gus frowned at Prescott, crossing their arms. His attempt to annoy them wasn't going to go as he planned.

"You wouldn't even be in here if you hadn't turned your back on everyone!" Oswald snapped. "A living arrangement I'm willing to shorten if you just tell us who's really behind this." He baited.

Prescott scoffed at the meager bait and swatted it away like a piece of garbage. "What reason do I have to cooperate with you?" He chuckled arrogantly. "Even if I did tell you, it wouldn't help you at all." He folded his arms, glaring hard at the spiders he's killed since he woke up a few hours ago. "We're all nothing but insects that are going to be stomped on. My betrayal was nothing more than a means to shake this world to the core." And shook it he did. After the main quake already destroyed their foundations. "I was only a voluntary cog in the machine." Roundabout answers with the most cryptic of admissions followed by very smug and ominous cliffhangers. Mickey, Oswald, and Gus saw this coming a mile away. Prescott might have been willing to take before he was brought in. But now that he's here, no chances of ever being free dangling in front of his face, he has no reason to cooperate. On a brighter note, he just confirmed when they've been sensing for the past three days. There IS a higher power at work here. Prescott was a flunky. A voluntary one.

"Which I still don't get why you would be?! I thought we were pals, Prescott!"

"You thought the same of your precious Doctor once upon a time too." Prescott ever so gracefully and slyly countered. He smirked at the huge crack that webbed in Oswald's chest. "You're so familiar with betrayal and yet you never thought to confront me about it." He crooned tauntingly, lavishing in Oswald's pitiful attempt at restraint. "All of the signs were there. You even had your suspicions." He narrowed his sights. "Yet just to spare Cecelia from terrible pain you abstained. Only to watch her crumble in the end." Oswald was trembling, trying his hardest to not break down the bars. Those balling and loosening fists were giving him away. "Speaking of," Prescott stretched his neck, bobbing back and forth, "What? No Cecelia? Is she hiding somewhere to try and play bystander? Listen in hopes of reforming her wayward love?" He snorted.

Oswald bit into his lip. He sounds so confident. "Cecelia's not here!" His bark came with a cracked voice. Mickey and Gus were startled by his sudden outburst. Prescott blinked in shock. He feels that he heard wrong. It irritated Oswald that this _self-acclaimed genius_ wasn't putting two and two together. He marched up to the bars, slamming a fist to the rust caked iron. "She left, Prescott! You broke her so badly that she packed up and went home!" Prescott's eyes widened, his inside's curdling. _She...left?_

 **xxx**

After cleaning up the syrup, and Cecelia cleaning up in the shower, Yensid poured two hot cups of tea. Cecelia came back down into the kitchen in her pajamas. Her drenched hair clung to her solemn face. She stopped like a deer in headlights. She saw the tea and knew there was no escape for her now. She could try...but Yensid had that look in his eye that he would cast puppet strings on her and make her sit until she talks. She sucked heatedly on the air, sitting across from him resignedly. She wrapped her hands to the cup, chills scrolling her skin from the blissful heat. A long sip relaxed her more than the shower.

Yensid said for her to start at the beginning. Which beginning? The story overlaps at several points, and stretches to last year. And a few points will really shame her to talk about. She can start slow for her sake, then gradually knead her way to the part where she handed the keys to the kingdom to her unstable Ex. Egh...no! She'll just come out and say it. "Prescott stole my magic." Yensid's entire person just crumbled into thousands of pieces. The shock on his face made Cecelia scared that she broke him. She had to wave a hand in his face to make sure he was still with her. He was. Thank goodness. There can be only one person with pieces that need picking up, and Yensid isn't one of them. The wrinkle forming in his brow warned her that she needed to speak fast before he lunges into Wasteland and murders the gremlin. "Last year, as a token of love and thanks," Sounds really corny when she says it out loud, "I left my spellbook with Prescott." She pushed her hands towards him, begging him to save the outrage boiling in his throat until after the presentation. Yensid muffled hius words into a growl...and grudgingly let her continue. "Then, on my visits, I would teach him some magic and he would teach me tech. It was...fun." To say the least. Honestly, it was the best part about being with him. "I found someone to relate with, and who I can love with all my heart again. I was healing." Someone who wasn't terrified of her, hated her for what she is, and was able to love her without any sort of conditioning. Other than she be his guinea pig here and there. "Then, a few months ago, he asked if I wanted to live with him. I said I'd speak with you first. He took that as a _I don't want to be with him_ and we broke up...I guess."

"You guess?" Yensid pushed the previous transgressions far behind, using her uncertainty as an enormous take away.

"We didn't say _break up_ , more like _need space._ " The number of air quotes in that statement will give her cramps in her fingers.

"Ahh…" In spite of how vague that is, Yensid was versed enough in female speak to know...that his granddaughter had a fear of relationship commitments. Gets it from her mother, actually. Took Michael ten years to get a yes from her when he proposed.

"Anyway, we stopped speaking for five months…" Prescott was really dramatic about it too. Absolutely ridiculous in assuming she didn't want to live with him. It's all she wanted. She just didn't want to leave Yensid high and dry. If anything, Prescott should have contacted Yensid and asked for permission. "The next thing I know, while you're out getting herbs, I'm being attacked by some magical force. It reached out and grabbed me like the last time. But this time my magic was ripped right out of me. I fell unconscious." Yensid knit his brow. He thought he sensed something powerful that day. Now he knows what caused it. "When I woke up, Mickey was here telling me Gus and Ortensia called. Wasteland was in danger. We grabbed the brush, painted in the board, and we went in." Lines up with Yensid finding Wasteland full of color, but doesn't explain the massive crack running through it. "With Oswald and Gus, we tore Wasteand apart to uncover why the projectors stopped working, why The Mad Doctor was back, and where my magic was taken and who took it." She chopped her hand at the table, lining up their whole process in cliffnotes...coming to the point that she dreads. She bit on her lips, fighting the rage stinging her eyes. "All roads lead to Prescott." She rasped brokenly. Yensid inhaled heatedly, closing his eyes with a bow of his head. "He used my own book, used my teachings, and my magic against me, my friends, and Wasteland! Because of me he was able to hurt EVERYONE!" Yensid flinched slightly. She was coming unhinged. Her body was trembling. She clawed at her head. "Because of me…" She choked on her drying throat, "He thought he was worthless...and took it out on everyone! Prescott...what he's done...is all my fault! Wasteland doesn't deserve me!" She buried her head in an arm, pulling at her hair. "It's my fault! It's MY fault! IT'S ALL MY FAULT, OSWALD! I'M SO SORRY!"

 **xxx**

' _I'M SO SORRY!_ ' Oswald's ears twitched. He turned his head slightly, brow narrowing. _What was that?_

"She left…" Prescott's mutter pulled him back. The Rabbit was enraged. Prescott had the audacity to be shocked.

"What?! Not gonna call me a liar?! Or does some part of your vacant heart know she left?!" Cecelia...his Cecelia...just up and left? He lowered his head. His eyes darted around like he was finding this hard to fathom. "Do you actually feel sad that she didn't come back for you?!" Prescott heard him screaming, but he was lost in a void. _I mean...I knew she wouldn't come see me._ He expected that like he expects the sun to rise. But for her to leave. Tp leave without...without a word. Oswald was slapped with utter disbelief. He scoffed with a disdainful laugh, clapping and lurching forward. Mickey and Gus backed away, fearing Oswald lost his mind. Sure sounded like it. Prescott was thinking the same thing. And he's supposed to be the unstable one. Oswald motioned a finger for his pals to wait. There's a reason behind his laughing. He cannot believe what he is seeing. "I don't believe it! You were hoping she'd come back for you!"

"NO!" Prescott roared.

"You wanted her to stop you!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" Prescott lunged at the bars, meeting an electrified glare to the daggers in Oswald's. The rabbit wasn't backing down. He just wished those bars weren't there so they could go a few rounds. No magic, no remotes. Just fists against fists, bones cracking, and teeth knocked out at the roots. "I don't want her to come back! I don't nee-ugh. GRR! I don't nee-ha-ho! BLAST!" His mouth was going drier than the desert. His tongue knitted itself in knots. His throat clenching, choking him with the noose of that one sentence. He inhaled grudgingly, "I-DO-NOT-WANT-HER-HERE!" He bit down fiercely at every word, spitting out the chunks...and saliva in Oswald's face. Gus handed him a handkerchief. Prescott took a couple of steps back, hyperventilating in pure rage. "I NEVER WANTED HER HERE TO BEGIN WITH! THIS COULD HAVE ALL BEEN AVOIDED HAD SHE JUST STAYED HOME!" All of it! Her getting involved, her getting death threats put on her head, her having to endure another betrayal by a man whose love shouldn't have come with a catch. "She…" He ground his teeth, nearly breaking the gums. He smashed the ball of his palm to his, squeezing oncoming tears back where they belong. He breathed harshly to regulate the lumps growing in his throat. "She wouldn't have gotten hurt…" He went hoarse, sinking against the weak bars of his bed frame.

Oswald was growing tired of this _I meant no harm_ act Prescott was trying to put on. Playing that he's this hardened criminal while justifying what he has done. And at the expense of his ex-girlfriend and those he fought side by side with. He was slowly reaching for his remote. "That's not the same as not needing her!" Gus roared, latching a hand to Oswald's wrist. The last thing they need is to start a fight and destroy Big Bad's House. That is a disaster they will never escape. "Why did you hurt her, Prescott?! You owe her that much!" Prescott's jaw clenched, his fingers stiffly curling. He was suppressing a dire flinch electrifying his muscles. _Why did you hurt her?_ They ask that question like it's a simple one. They've asked it once already. His response was that of what a petulant child who finally got his way for so long would say. _I can do anything I want._ That wasn't why in the least. Well, in regards to Cecelia. Wasteland...his love has been fading for a while. That said...he can say with confidence that his love for Cecelia didn't fade in the slightest. It was because he loved her...that he chased her away.

Prescott interlaced his fingers, putting his forehead to the palms. He didn't want them to see the seams coming undone. Too late for that. "I know how cliche it will sound when I say I never meant to hurt her." His sentenced should be tripled for that line. "But it is the truth. I would never hurt her...but I did anyway." And he did so willfully, and with a method that would cripple the spirits of war veterans. He took what she cherished most right out of her and used it to harm others, all the while maintaining a facade he couldn't see what becoming a facade. "I knew what was coming. I knew the moment I was approached. Every sign post that mounted in my mind told me to back out. That nothing good will come of it." He ignored them right up to the point of it being beyond too late. "But when I was promised respect, recognition for my efforts…to be freed from that blasted Gag Factory..." He really hates it there, "That voided part of me ignored those sign posts, damned who would get caught in the crossfire…" Ortensia, Mickey, Oswald, Gus, Jamface...Cecelia, "And I fell in bed with the devil himself." A nightmarish image of The Blot putting puppet strings to him plagued their thoughts. It's not the first time a friend was manipulated. He put his hands to either side of his head. He shook his head, feeling his noose tighten. "Cecelia being the sacrifice for the glory I sought...that ended up being ash in my mouth." He can taste it filling in his throat. "I robbed her of her magic to keep her home. When our plans were done, and the danger past, I would have given it back." The trio squared themselves. They were getting closer. Prescott snorted at how naive he sounded. "More sign posts screamed in my head that I knew better. That she would come even if she was in a full bodied cast." He slapped his thighs in self derision. "She didn't disappoint. She never disappoints." And he was happy for it.

Mickey, Oswald, and Gus shared skeptical glances, each on the fence about his story. Did they believe that? Did they believe him? Her hurt his friends, the woman he loved, for glory? Recognition? And in the end...he regretted it? Honestly...the jury is still out. Making it irrelevant at the moment. There is a grander scheme than Prescott's wayward journey to top dog. It wasn't missed by anyone that there were puppet strings attached to him. No disregard to his intelligence - the man is a genius - but he is by no means smart enough, or possess the resources, to pull this scheme off. Not alone. He was an errand boy. And the one signing his checks is still running around free as a bird. Prescott's guard was lowered. The barrier he encased himself in had a gaping hole in it. Either they strike now, or lose this chance.

 **xxx**

"Choice - an act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities." Yensid so eloquently recited, partaking in his tea.

Cecelia's self loathing was put on hold. She had to sip her tea in order to grasp that he sounded like a cheap dictionary. "How is being a human dictionary supposed to help me feel better?" The plot eluded her.

"It's more than just a dictionary term. It is cognitive, conscious thought." Still not grasping where he was going with this. Yensid assured her with a chuckle that he was getting to it. "As a teacher myself, I know the stakes that go into sharing knowledge with a protege. The cons greatly outweigh the pros." Cecelia was another 20 words from throwing her tea at him. "One of the main fears is my teachings being perverted to cause harm, oppress others, or to compensate for shortcomings. It is a fear that I carry even till this day." He leaned forward, looking dead into Cecelia's warring soul. "The guilt that would come would be too much to bear."

"Not making me feel better, or explaining what your premise of the word choice was for." And that tea in her hand was feeling very chuckable. The question is whether or not Yensid would dodge it, suck it into a wormhole and dump it back on her, or just let it hit him. The first two are the most likely.

Yensid sensed her evil intentions and took her tea cup, setting it as far out of her reach as possible. He has yet to learn that Cecelia doesn't need an arsenal to deal a mean right hook. Which she's been affectionately told she has in the past. "As teachers, we can only do so much in hopes of a bright future for our students. Unfortunately, our students do not always make the right choices. Especially when motivated by selfish ambitions." _Selfish ambitions_ is a pretty kind way of phrasing it. Prescott turned into a megalomaniac. "You taught him magic, and he you technology, because you both wanted proteges and to pass on your knowledge. You never used technology to hurt anyone. Therefore you chose to honor his profession." He touched a finger to her nose. "He wasn't as driven my morals as you." And he's very proud that her past sins and digressions haven't changed her from the angel he knows her as. "Prescott CHOSE to use magic for harm. He CHOSE to rob you of your powers. And he CHOSE to betray Wasteland."

Suddenly his dissertation was making sense. "Still, Wasteland should have rejected me." She looked to where Wasteland sat, feeling worse about all this. "Instead it shrunk me down and let me in." She looked at her hands, still a little taken aback by how much smaller her kitten hands are to her adult hands. She's only been an adult for a year. "Still don't know why it did that. Why it shrunk me to my cat form? Could have cast me out...or at least leave me as an adult."

"Like your other visits." Ynesid knows she didn't transform when she'd pop in and out. But this time...she did. It fascinated him. "What did your previous visits have in common?"

"Friendly visits, reconnecting...dates." The last one she blushed on.

"Wasteland was not in peril." Yensid summed up, drawing a solid conclusion. Cecelia arched a baffled brow. "The first time you plunged into Wasteland, you were in the body of a child. A child with the curiosity of a cat. The magic of wasteland brought that to life." She sneered irritated. She really hates being referred to as a cat. "Forever does it remember, and beckon, their Feline Hero."

"Are you saying Wasteland turned me ten again…" She had to ponder this a second, "Because that's who helped saved it?"

"It is also the face joined by Mickey and Oswald that brought peace back to a torn land." Which was a yes.

And while Cecelia feels flattered that Wasteland think of her as a hero...she really wishes it wouldn't. "That's really nice of it." She dismissed, lying her head to her folded arms. "Too bad it misread the character is vest faith in." She traced circles in the table. "I just hope no more earthquakes will happen."

"Earthquakes?"

 **xxx**

Gus took the lead here. He knelt to his protege, placing a hand to the bars. Prescott physically reacted to his presence, but didn't have the fortitude to look him in the eye. "You weren't behind this, Prescott. Not all of it. We know that much." Prescott closed his eyes resignedly, confirming in flashing lights that they were on point. "Tell us who is really behind all of this and we beg leniency for your sentence."

"I can't." He resisted. Gus groaned dreadfully. "He'll hurt more people than I already have." He hugged himself, shaking in fear. "He threatened to kill Cecelia had I not done what I did. He knew she would come…" He had a choice, while at the same time he was dragged by a leash.

"You keep saying HE." Mickey stressed. "HE'll hurt more people, HE threatened Cecelia." There really needs to be a label with these pronouns. "You want to tell us! I see it clawing to get out!" Seriously, if Mickey can see inside others he would see a rabid animal with beady eyes tearing him to shreds. "I get that you're scared! I really do! But the longer you remain silent, the more likely others will get hurt regardless." He grasped at the bars with both hands. Prescott may not be willing to look at him, but Mickey will sure as heck make sure he hears them. "Cecelia...will get hurt! AGAIN!" That was the first genuine reaction of horror Prescott displayed. He was writhing in nausea. Cecelia hurt again...he couldn't bear that. "Please, Prescott. Who is behind this?"

 _Who is behind this?_ Prescott repeated mentally. "You already know the answer. You've known for a long time." His willful response was wrapped in an enigma. An ominous hue blanketed him. His tone was lowered to a whisper. "But...like Cecelia...you don't want to think the worst. Not when it's been so good." Oswald took a step back, a small chill running down his spine. Was Prescott only speaking for Cecelia?

 **xxx**

"Cecelia, you said an earthquake tore Wasteland apart?!" He gasped with skepticism.

"Yeah. A huge one tore it in half." Yensid gaped in utter dismay of his creation. He raced over to it, running his fingers along the crack. "Now there are just aftershocks." Cecelia stated nonchalantly, meaning behind him.

"No, no, no! That isn't possible." He stated breathlessly, horrified by the destruction wrought to his most brilliant creation.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Cecelia's voice shook. Of course it's possible. She was shaken by the stupid shocks.

"Wasteland is capable of having every sort of disaster...except earthquakes." He stressed, drawing the line in stone. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

"What?" It was Cecelia's turn to gasp. She glanced at Wasteland like it was a ghost. Clearly it can have earthquakes...right? "Why?" She asked, really curious why he was so convinced otherwise.

"There are no tectonic plates, no fault lines. I didn't put any." Cecelia's shoulders sank. "If an earthquake has torn my world apart, it lies beyond nature."

 _He didn't add plates?_ Cecelia repeated her question over and over again, ogling Wasteland like it was an alien. "Are you saying…" She knows enough about science to know that no plates means no shakes, and no shakes means...wait. What does that mean? If there aren't any plates or fault lines...then...then that would mean...a light turned on in her head. "Science isn't behind this." She declared. There it was! That feeling! What she was missing! She lifted her spread hands, juggling the facts in front of her. THIS is what's been gnawing at her. She knew something wasn't right. Not just with Prescott, but with Wasteland itself! And what oh what about Wasteland stood out the most to her during her whole time there...yet she put it to the back of her mind without really thinking? Or, to put it more simply...what IS Wasteland ITSELF? If not governed by science...then..."There are supernatural forces at work! Science is only part of it! HOLY CRAP!" Her adrenaline was buzzing. Her lost fire reignited in a blaze. She skipped her feet, shaking with a god given epiphany, and made a mad dash up to her room. Yensid was impassive to the gust she threw at him, the loud banging and crashes from her digging through that mess of a closet of hers, and her near trip as she returned. She strapped on the gloves and belt, fastening her spellbook. Yensid smirked to himself. She was ready for battle. "I GOTTA GO!" She stood on her tiptoes, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "LOVE YOU! SEE YOU SOON!"

Yensid followed her to the hallway, laughing to himself as she dove headfirst into that magic mirror. The rippling of image of Wasteland faded away. And on her way she was, once again, to save the day. Just as Yensid knew she would. "She never slows down, Lyra." He said affectionately. He folded his hands behind his back, moseying on over to his creation on the work table. "Never for an instant."

 **To be continued**


	26. The Game is Afoot

**The Game is Afoot**

 **xxx**

"TIME'S UP, SHORITES!" Prescott lost his soul, jumping out of skin at Big Bad's obnoxious entrance. He cowered in his cell, curling into a ball in the corner. Gus and Oswald ogled each other bewildered, while Mickey sneered at Big Bad Pete. The trio glanced at Prescott who had taken to cowering under the covers in his bed. "What?! You got a problem?! I said keep it short!" Big Bad put his huge hands on them.

The three got the boot out of City Hall. Mickey and Oswald plopped with toy squeaks, and got a goose honk out of them with Gus landing on them. Big Bad slammed the doors, then poked one open briefly to put a _**CLOSED**_ sign on the door handle. Gus huffed offended, rather disgusted by Big Bad's debilitating manners. Oswald and Mickey bucked him off. They udsted themselves off, putting the throbbing boot prints on their hinds behind them. No pun intended...again. Prescott's warning before they were interrupted echoed against their skulls.

"We know...but don't want to admit it…" Oswald hummed perturbed. "I feel like that was more directed at me." Incidentally, the Haberdasher was walking by with a barrow of arrows that happened to be pointed at Oswald. Flashing lights and everything. The bunny was not amused. His glare at the Haberdasher also led him to spot Big Bad sneaking away with a backpack of things. "Huh…" A bit of stretch in spite of him being sneaky.

Mickey and Gus stood by Oswald, curious about where the fat cat was going with all that stuff packed. Coincidentally, The Mad Doctor met him near the hot air balloons, the two getting on. "Do ya think…?" Mickey wagged a finger. Prescott's reaction to Pete, and The Mad Doctor showing up with Daisy before Prescott could confess. It was all too coincidental. "If there are secrets to uncover, do you think they're part of them?"

"At this point…" Gus let out a drawn out sigh, itching the side of his head, "I don't know who to believe anymore."

"Then believe me!" Came an individual poke on each of their heads. The trio whipped around and the biggest, sparkling smiles broke across their faces. The phrase is _look what the cat dragged in_. But in a fabulous twist, Wasteland dragged in the cat. And she was ready for round three. "What's up!"

"CECELIA!" Mickey, Oswald, and Gus tackled her bear strength hugs, plowing her into the ground in hearty laughter. Cecelia gave in to the giggles, hugging her boys snuggly.

"YOU'RE BACK!" Mickey cheered.

"And I am suffocating!" She wheezed. She was turning blue as a Smurf.

"OH! DREADFULLY SORRY!" Gus cried, shoving the lads off of her. Cecelia coughed regaining her wind, climbing back onto her feet. Geez, she knew they would miss her but she didn't expect them to be in this bad of shape. "You're really making a career out of dramatic entrances." Gus panted happily.

"I'll be sure to dedicate my first check to you three. But I just had a an epiphany." She rapidly broke through the happy reunion. She'd love nothing more than to hash it out with them on how stupid she was for leaving and how sorry she was, but this was more important. "Remember how the Doc said there are still secrets to uncover?" Not said so much as sang.

"Yeah?" The three boys hummed, a little put off by how fast she diverted straight to business.

"Here's one I uncovered." She clapped her hands, ensuring she has their full attention. Actually...she took them to the underground where she knew they would have absolute privacy. Mickey thinned out the Dropwings patrolling the corridor and the floor was once again Cecelia's. "Okay! Wasteland can't have natural Earthquakes." She blurted out in one breath.

"What?! What do you mean?" Oswald gasped confused. The quakes are her epiphany? And they aren't natural? Even Gus and Mickey weren't sure what she was driving at.

Cecelia saw she was losing them. She motioned her fingers for them to give her a second. She knows how to explain this in a way they'll understand. She put on a scholar's cap, unsheathed a yard stick from the blue, and pulled a chalkboard on scene. Gus placed a hand to his chest with pride. Cecelia giggled at him, then tapped on the chalkboard. Chalky lines drew a large city of their own accord. Beneath it were large ovals. "Quakes are caused by a clash of tectonic plates." She explained in a steady pace. The ovals in the picture had little angry shark faces drawn on them and started bumping. "Anywhere there are fault lines will suffer the worst damage!" Lines serving as fault lines appeared, and the city shook until it crumbled like jenga blocks.

"Uh-huh." Oswald bobbed with the dumbest expression on his face. Gus and Mickey stared blankly, really missing the point here.

"Wow, this must be how I looked at gramps." She muttered to herself. She thinks she should get to the point. She had the chalks reorient itself into Mean Street, the same ovals lingering. "When my grandfather made this place he didn't put plates in here!" The plates gawked in trouble, then they went POOF. "Rainstorms, volcanic eruptions, mudslides," Each one named appeared, upsetting the little figures added to the picture, "You guys can have every natural disaster except for quakes...and tsunamis." Which are caused by earthquakes tearing into the ocean floor.

"So...hold on…" Gus pressed his fingertips to his skull, squeezing his eyes closed in hefty thought, "Are you saying...that the aftershocks we're facing…aren't caused by nature..." He trailed. Gradually his face was lighting up - Mickey and Oswald's as well. That gnawing in the back of their minds...it was cracking like an egg, oozing the tortuous mystery across their brains. "It can't be!"

"They are man made." Cecelia finished, striking a gong in the three boys' heads. She waved her hands so that they wouldn't get too far ahead of themselves. "Or rather, someone has done something to Wasteland that is causing it to tear itself apart." She stepped in closer. "And, if I recall correctly, there are only two entities in this whole world with that sort of power." She sneakily taking glimpses to a puddle near them. "The very HEARTS of Wasteland itself that keep this place together."

Oswald caught on to her hint the second he laid eyes on the puddle, immediately thinking of the abundance of GUardian pools that rose to the surface after the quake. "The Turps and Tints!"

"The guardians?!" Mickey forgot all about those little guys. And they help him from time to time.

"Exactly!" Cecelia bounced in place, snapping her fingers. She had to take a breath with Mickey and Oswald. This suffocating veil finally lifted from their heads. It wasn't JUST Prescott that was driving them batty. It was the quakes! The guardian pools that started showing up after the quake, and how violent the aftershock have been getting. A part of Gus and Oswald knew the quake wasn't right. They've had a few natural disasters in the past, and this didn't feel remotely natural.' _The earthquakes are gone!_ ' Those were the Mad Doctor's exact words! Which can only mean the either the guardians are okay, or something worse. "Your guardians hold Wasteland together! If your world is tearing itself apart, it means they are in trouble!"

"Well done, Cecelia!" Gus slapped her on the back. He switched her scholar cap with a detective's cap. Gave her a pipe that blows bubbles too. "How did you come to this conclusion?"

"Gotta love the insight of family." She praised her grandfather, placing hands to her heart in thanks. Mickey, Gus, and Oswald shared smiles. They're back on the hunt again.

"Speaking of insight, I've just had some." Gus wagged a finger, returning his attention to the Guardian Pool in the ditch with the robot head. "While I was in Bog Easy, Ian told me about Gilbert sending Horace a case involving Guardian Pools vanishing from certain areas."

"Vanishing?!" Oswald gasped in terror. "Guardian Pools don't vanish! They move...but they don't vanish!" It's very true. When the guardians find a spot they like they make a pool there and hang around. When they want to move, there's no muss of fuss. They just move.

"Well these ones are." Gus assured him. "Gilbert watched on vanish right before his eyes. Said that the spot it vanished from dried up and decayed."

Oswald felt his stomach flip. Whenever Guardians roost, that spot thrives on their energy. When they leaves there's a new abundance of life. That being said, they roost in Ventureland A LOT! Leaving a desert patch upon departure... "They really are in trouble!"

"Then our course is set." Cecelia meandered up to Mickey. "Forgive the pun, Mickey, but we have a mouse scurrying while the rat rots in the City Hall prison." She raised her forearm to him. "What do you say we all bring this game of Cat and Mouse to an end?"

Mickey twirled his brush, bumping his forearm to hers. "You don't have to ask me twice."

Gus and Oswald put their arms in. One more run for the Musketeers. A run to finally free Wasteland from its strife. "Where do we start?" Oswald asked, anxious to begin.

"I will begin in the Gag Factory." Gus volunteered. "If Prescott truly was behind all of this," Which they will all continue to doubt until proven wrong, "He surely has a clue there somewhere. And maybe...just maybe...I can find out the real reason he turned out so...so bad." He sank sadly. Mickey pat Gus on the shoulder. He wishes that he would stop blaming himself for others. Cecelia and Oswald would ask the same thing...but those two don't want to be considered hypocrites.

"Then we'll ask around to see if anyone noticed anything strange." Mickey volunteered himself and Oswald.

"That leaves me with the mastermind himself." Cecelia threw up a little in her throat glaring at City Hall. "Is he…"

"Yes. He awoke while you were gone." Gus soberly stated, sucking nervously on his lips. The muscles in Cecelia's face were warring with the rage boiling her blood to not reveal her state. She was a little green in the cheeks, dreading this talk. It is admirable what she's doing, but Gus was concerned. "You sure you'll be okay?"

"No. But I don't have a choice." She stormed off, sparks surged between her erect ears. Oswald, Gus, and Mickey were sweating bullets, super scared that there will be an explosion.

 **xxx**

Horace chiseled at the clutter swarming his office. He filed his cases from the previous year and had them neatly stored to boxes in a corner. The solved versus the unsolved was pleasant different. Thanks to Tedworth, Horace had a taller stack of solved cases from last year. His unsolved were, maybe, a shy five. Now...as he turns to the Mickeyjunk Mountain of a cluster...he just has five more years worth of cases to file away. He knows there are a lot of solved cases in there somewhere. He's just scared he won't be so lucky to have a minimal case load. Tedworth already took a small chunk out of that monster mess...but Horace kind of got rid of him before he could finish.

"What I wouldn't give for an assistant again." Horace moaned. He'll even take Tedworth back.

His door was kicked open, cracking on the wall. Horace neighed scared out of his saddle, jumping to the light dangling from the ceiling. Posing like a supermodel, strutting in like one, was none other than Clarabelle Cow! "Give no more and look no further!" She flamboyantly announced.

"Miss Clarabelle?!" Horace squeaked. He gulped at the light coming undone from the ceiling. He cannonballed to the floor, groaning dizzily. Papers and files exploded in the air. He quickly sprouted back to his feet at attention, running a napkin across the dirt and sweat clinging to his face. "What are you doing here?!"

Clarabelle laughed at how adorably coy he's being. "Gus told me you were looking for a new assistant…" She dusted off his shoulders, then struck another peacock pose, "Ta-daa…"

"Oh...um...really, he...uh…" Horace was sweating again. He itched at his neck, choked on his dry mouth, and really caved to the plight of his shaking legs to run. He was really digging himself in a hole.

Clarabelle scrunched her knows, quirking a brow taken aback. "Is...that a problem?" She said curtly, daring him with folded arms answer what the problem is.

"NO-NO! Not a problem...per say…" He lost his whole spine out his backside, waving his hands excitedly to spare him from her wrath. Meaning he needs to speak fast...or be strangled with that tacky purse of hers. He cleared his throat. "Uhh...Miss Clarabelle...my line of work does get dangerous. VERY dangerous. Probably more dangerous than what you could comprehend."

"Cecelia, Ortensia, and Daisy can do it. Why can't I do it?" She snarled is daring him to answer this with a straight face. Although, if she is being asked to attack this leviathan known as paperwork occupying 85% of the office then she might make a run for it.

"I'm not say you CAN'T! I'm saying you need to be able to handle yourself out there." He sounded so genuine that Clarabelle found it difficult to be mad at him for much longer. "I'm no warrior myself, but I can take whatever Wasteland throws at me." She disproved his theory by, non hostilely, throwing a book at him. "OW!" The book bounced off his head. She pursed her lips at him, proving HER point.

"Yeah...you're getting that assistant!" She set her purse down, attacking the papers immediately at her feet. Horace was about to give her a long explanation about a system he's been using. In a Tasmanian whirl she had five cases filed, organized, and in the solved box. He kept his large mouth shut. "Huh...have you seen this one yet?" She handed him a case from four days ago.

"What is it?" Horace took it. He read the headline, " _Guardian Pool Drought?_ " He hasn't found this one yet. Must have gotten lost in his mess. " _Last one seen...at the Lonesome Manor?_ Ghost Gabriel brought this in?"

"I actually know about this one. Well, I've seen it." She corrected herself.

"You have?!" Horace gasped.

"Yes. There was a pool in Ventureland near Daisy's work a while back. Went back for a girl's night and it was gone."

That was all Horace needed to hear. Because he's noticed it too. But he thought the Guardians were moving to less populated places. "Then we need to get going!" He gathered his equipment in a bag, packed one for Clarabelle and threw it in her arms, and he was out the door. "The game is afoot!" The door slammed, causing an avalanche out of his workload.

 **xxx**

Prescott threw rocks at his cell wall, really bored with killing spiders, cockroaches, and the occasional dust mite that tried to pack up and leave. It got really boring...REALLY FAST! What he wouldn't give for a distraction! A surprise dropped from the blue to briefly take him from behind these bars.

"And here I thought you couldn't look any more pathetic."

Prescott was petrified still. He stiffly turned his head. His jaw dropped at Cecelia leaned to the sill of his cell. He rose to his feet, blinking in disbelief that she was standing there. And she...was not happy. She was lighting him on fire with her glare. "You're...I mean...I heard that you…" He was accosted by joy and fright at the sight of her. She came back...she came to him. Knitting her brow enraged prompted Prescott to cease his shocked elation before she really does burn him alive. Besides, he knows full well she isn't her for HIM per say. Prescott cleared his throat, composing himself. "I'm glad you came. I...I needed to talk to you."

"Don't insult me by apologizing!" She bared her fangs.

"As if I planned to. Besides," He moseyed up to the bars, closing his fingers to them, "How does one apologize for their own willful actions?" Cecelia didn't falter at the _guilt_ dripping in his woe. She also moved back an inch as he tried to sneak a hand to hers. Prescott expected some sort of sharp bite back. Granted, nothing sharper than putting oneself out of reach. Instead she just stared, convincing Prescott to stop trying to play. "How can I be of service?" He took his hand back, moving from the bars.

Cecelia stepped closer, putting her hands on her hips. "The Guardians - what did you do to them?" She wasn't going to beat around the bush. Time might be running out.

"What are you talking about?" Prescott's face wrinkled. He shook his head at the odd question.

"Wasteland isn't capable of having earthquakes because there are no tectonic plates to cause mass shifting." Prescott bobbed his head, knowing full well what tectonic plates were...then he gaped in terror at what she was leading toward. "The Earthquake that tore Wasteland in half was caused because something is wrong with the Turps and Tints. Beings that are known to hold Wasteland together." Her voice was quaking as her anger for him was leaking out. She was coming undone in front of him. "Something everyone who lives he knows!" She didn't suppress her anger in her shout, making Prescott flinch. "So I'm asking you, since you sabotaged the projectors, lied to your own Gremlin brethren, AND betrayed people who considered you their closest friends," Prescott tossed his hand in the air. That dagger was already wedged deep. He doesn't need it any deeper...or a second one being added, "What have you done with the Turps and Tints? Why are they and the Guardian Pools vanishing?"

Prescott lost a massive chunk of color in his face. "They're disappearing...they're really disappearing…" His breath shuddered as he staggered away, putting his hands to his bed to not fall. Her face twisted in horror...and a semblance of hatred. "That maniac!"

It was Cecelia's turn to be scared. She's never seen that expression before. Not as austere, anyway. "Prescott? What's-"

"HEY! You got one minute left, Kitty-Kat! Hurry up!" Big Bad obnoxiously bellowed. Prescott grit his teeth.

"Keep your fake leg on! I'm hurrying!" Prescott rushed to the bar and lunged a hand at her collar, yanking her in close. She braced her hands to save from an uncomfortable kiss with the bars. "WHAT THE HE-"

"Listen to me, Cecelia! He hasn't changed at all! It's all a front!" Prescott frothed at the mouth in a whisper. "He isn't trying to better Wasteland! He's trying to escape it!" Again with the enigmatic pronouns. Cecelia isn't in the mood for anymore mysteries...but Prescott was really scaring her. "I don't know how, but I'd wager it has to with the TV he had me build."

"What?! Who are you talking about?" He head was spinning, getting tangled in the threads that seemed to lead to nowhere. Prescott opened and closed his mouth, desperate to answer her. But he would hiss on his grounding teeth to keep himself from talking too much. Only one name came to mind, and it happened to be related to the guy who interrupted Prescott the first time. "The Doc?" She whispered.

Prescott's silence, coupled with him being able to swallow the lump choking him, confirmed it. _I knew it!_ "I'm not sure where the Guardians fit into this madness, but I know he's been capturing them. I don't know where they are." Cecelia frowned incredulously. Prescott fanned her skeptical flames, "I know you have no reason to believe me! But believe me when I say this, I'm not the mastermind. I'm a pawn." He had to rethink that a second. "A willing pawn...but a pawn all the same."

At least he's being honest about it. Which, by the way, Cecelia can't determine is annoying or enlightening. "I'm not saying I trust the Doc. I really don't. I never will." In fact, if she had her way, she would have buried him in rubble the first day she got here. "But why should I trust a word you say?" She slapped his hand off her collar and then latch hers to his horn. She twisted his head downward. "You already lead me down the wrong path, blinding me from the real truth behind previous incidents." For which she was willfully ignorant. Prescott found the sting of her words less painful than her pulling at his horn. "Why should I trust you now?"

"You shouldn't! I wouldn't expect you too!" He pried himself free. Her viciousness hasn't dulled. "Precisely why I'll leave you with this fruit for thought." He snuck a glance down the hall, seeing the ominous shadow of Big Bad trudging closer. "The next time you come...I won't be here." Cecelia knit her brow baffled. What does that mean? Was...was he still in trouble? Big Bad was a foot away. Prescott took Cecelia by the arm, pulling her into a surprise kiss. Cecelia was astonished, but didn't push away. She let Prescott kiss her...for what felt like hours of guilty bliss...and then break it when he heard Big Bad grunt at her. He caressed her arm as she stepped away, gazing at her with doe eyed adoration. "Take care, Cecelia. I'll still love you." Cecelia staggered away with a hand to her lips. Her heart was pounding...like it always does with him. She bumped into Big Bad in her attempt to run. She apologized and broke into a sprint out the door.

"Ain't dat sweet." Big Bad cooed mockingly. His shadow consumed Prescott as he approached. The Gremlin remained still, resigned to what happens after Big Bad opens that door.

 **xxx**

Mickey waited on a bench near the icecream parlor, waving Cecelia when she came out. They bought her an icecream and shuffled over so she could join them. "Thanks, Guys."

"Learn anything?" Mickey licked at his strawberry.

"Yeah...no...maybe…" She's hasn't decided if she learned anything...or just had her stomped on heart spat on. She licked at the chocolate for clarity. _Asshole...kissing me...making me like it._ The devil has mean lips. "It's a song and dance we've done before. Prescott hinted that The Doc is behind all of this. That his _reform_ is a ploy." She took a breath to continue...the breath hitched when she saw Mickey and Oswald share astonished looks. "And you guys think and heard the same thing."

"Prescott told us - hinted toward - something similar." Mickey explained. "That we've known who the real culprit is...but don't want to admit it." He sighed through his nose, treading carefully for Oswald's sake.

Cecelia bit on the inside of her cheek, turning to Oswald. "Does that mean we're going to confront him?" It was more of her looking for permission than making an inquiry.

"On the word of someone who confessed on live TV that he was the mastermind?" Oswald quizzed him. Mickey clapped his hands together, angling index fingers at the point he made. They would be discredited for taking the side of a good friend, and for going after the guy who is trying to put Wasteland back together. "If we confront The Doc now without evidence, not only will he challenge us and then make his schemes scarce, we'll be made out as friends trying to help out a traitorous friend." In other words, either they play their cards close to the chest or lose everything. "Until we find out more, we need to investigate what's going on with the Turps and Tints. Let's meet up with Gus at the Gag Factory."

"Right!" Mickey and Cecelia swallowed their icecream in a whole, really regretting it after the brain freeze set in.

Oswald laughed at their expense. He just threw his away. As they were heading for a balloon ride to Mean Street North, Oswald had Cecelia slow her pace to speak with her a second. "How was...uh...you know…?"

Cecelia smirked at how kind he was being by dancing around it. "Don't worry. He was in one piece when I left." To her great disgust. At the same time...her disgust was coupled with a wash of relief. "Oddly enough...I feel better now that I've spoken with him. Last man that hurt me I avoided him for years." She's still avoiding that piss pot that had a hand in her birth.

"That's just it…" They reached the balloon service, paying the fee. "I don't think he meant to hurt you so badly." And there goes Oswald being his sensitive self. Cecelia entered the balloon with great loathing. "Did you see the diorama he made of you?"

"Yeah...I did. I guess you guys did too." She snarled.

"He put a lot of effort into recreating you. That whole adventure with you."

"My dad did that too. Put effort into showing how SPECIAL I was to him." She leaned to the edge of the basket, a fire consuming that disgusting man and sending him where he belongs. "Then he abandoned me the second it was convenient." Oswald conceded this line of conversation. Clearly able to see that speaking about while precariously floating across a deathly fall wasn't healthy for them. What Cecelia kept to herself is that...the difference here...Prescott seemed genuinely sorry. Too bad for him she isn't stupid enough to fall for the same betrayal twice.

 **xxx**

Horace and Clarabelle emerged from the projector into the bustling Bog Easy. Their thinking caps were on, and their pens were bruning to put facts on the pads they carried. Yes, typically, it helps to go directly to where the scene of the crime is. BUT having all the facts before arriving will help them in painting a picture in whether or not this was a pattern. A couple of pools missing isn't big news. Everyone knows that the pools move at the guardians' behest. It becomes an exciting mystery when the pools leave dead land in their wake.

Unbeknownst to the Detective Duo, a figure clad in white was watching them from the shadows. And he wasn't the bit pleased that these two were here. "More annoyances to deal with."

 **xxx**

The balloon touched down, letting its three customers off. Mickey and Oswald headed straight for the Gag Factory, meanwhile Cecelia came to a halt...a smile sneaking to her lips. On her front lawn, playing with her bunny children, was Ortensia. She was a true ray of sunshine on this bleak day. She told Mickey and Oswald that she would catch up them later. She needs to say hi and apologize to someone. The boys saw who she was talking and happily let her waltz over. Ortensia was so busy with her kids she didn't notice Cecelia walk up behind her.

"Hey, Ortensia!" Cecelia greeted bubbly.

Ortensia's head popped up. She whirled around, squealing at Cecelia wiggling her fingers in a cute wave. "Cecelia!" Oh, Cecelia must have been gone longer than she thought because she forgot Ortensia hides the strength of a boa constrictor. She crushed Cecelia's spine in a hug. "Oh I'm so happy that you're back!"

"It's good to be back!" Cecelia wheezed being freed from her grip. She should bring her the next time she sees Prescott. She can crush the life out of him for her.

"I'm actually really glad I found you! Something strange is happening." And she would have the foggiest of how right she is if Oswald would let her tag along on their latest adventure. "The land is drying up. I think the turps and tints are in trouble."

Cecelia was caught off guard by how spot on she was. "So you've noticed." Ortensia doesn't need to ride along. That keen intuition of hers was almost god-like. Cecelia edged in closer, lowering her voice. She won't sugarcoat it or dance around the facts. Ortensia is a big girl. "The guardian pools are disappearing."

"They're what?!" She cried too loud. Cecelia clapped her hands to her mouth. Ortensia apologized for it, then composed herself. "That's not possible! The pools don't disappear!"

"They move, I know. Gus told me! But they are disappearing, Ortensia. The Guardians are in danger." This brought a whole new wave of confusion to Ortensia's face. The guardians in danger, the pools drying up...that can't be possible. Cecelia held her by the shoulders, slowing those overdrive gears in her head. "Ortensia, you and I know Wasteland. You ten times better than me!" Let that be made clear now. She's not so pretentious. "Therefore you and I both know that these pools don't _vanish_ or _dry up_ on their own."

The rampaging gears disintegrated and then reanimated into a massive light bulb. A nauseating thought sent chills down her spines. She pulled Cecelia in closer by the shoulder, bringing her voice to a low murmur. "You think someone is taking them? Who?" Cecelia knit her brow. A glowering shadow masked half her face. "The Mad-"

"SSHH!" Ortensia was making a bad habit of shouting when she's shocked beyond comprehension. "Ortensia, please. This has to be kept quiet. People are just starting to be able to walk out of their homes with smiles on their faces." Ortensia bobbed her head rampantly. She of all people should know better. She honestly doesn't want to believe he'd betray everyone when he's brought them so more relief from this horror. "I know you want The Doc gone. So do I. But we...can't hurt our friends in the process."

"I just…" Cecelia's not wrong. Ortensia wants to see The Mad Doctor kicked out on his hide like last time. But...if her friends lose faith in the process while Wasteland is already in pieces...they might never recover. But that's not what makes this hard. "I hate that I'm sitting around. I feel as though I could be helping."

"Trust me, I know what sitting around helpless feels like." Cecelia sympathized.

"We may not have to sit around much longer." Gus announced animatedly, flying over with blueprints in hand. "I may have struck paydirt." Mickey and Oswald ran up behind him, everyone gathered around. "I found these blueprints. Prescott helped oversee a construction site in Ventureland." He spread the prints open on the ground.

"I know this one." Cecelia surprised everyone. She traced her fingers to the crudely drawn huts. "Prescott showed me this one a while before we broke up. He said he was helping Spatters build homes." Likely a request from Ian. And from the looks of it...Prescott was putting an enormous amount of _heart_ into these homes. That's his one saving grace, Cecelia knew. He always puts his heart - his full effort - into everything he does.

"That is what the prints depict. But if you look here…" Gus's voice broke Cecelia from her stupor in the nick of time. All eyes were on an X in the middle of Ventureland's construction site. "You'll see that it was actually a cover up for something...secret." He added with a dramatic hiss and squint. A musical sting added to his drama. Oswald and Mickey took to the Sherlock caps and pipes.

Cecelia's fingers balled into a fist. "What kind of secret?" She swiped the boys' caps and pipes, handing them to Ortensia. She really liked the print on the caps.

"One we're going to blow the lid off of." Oswald declared. Mickey, Cecelia, and Gus nodded firmly, and the four were making a break for the projector.

"WAIT…" Ortensia jigged after them.

"Sorry, Ortensia!" Oswald skid on a 180 spin, raced to Ortensia and placed a kiss on her forehead. "We'll talk more when we get back!"

"But…!" Ortensia was too late. Oswald and the others were already gone. Cecelia paused a brief second to mouth an _I'm sorry_ to her, really wishing she could come along this time, and then was dragged inside the projector by Mickey. "Ohh…" Ortensia trudged off sluggishly for her house. Her little bunny children jumped up and down on her leg, wanting her attention. They were saddened when she didn't so much as glance to them. "I hate being left behind." She moaned.

 **xxx**

What makes Bog Easy a special region is that dozens of Wastelanders from all walks mosey through here on a daily basis. Clarabelle and Horace had to peruse Bog Easy for a good couple of hours before the bread crumbs they were following lead them to the front lawn of The Lonesome Manor. Inuring about The Guardians, asking if the pools seemed odd, wondering if they would sign a petition getting the icecream parlor to start hosting a Guardian themed treat. The responses were astonishingly useful, and they got a 99% support rate for the Guardian Treat that needs to be hosted at the icecream parlor. The stories may have differed in minor details here and there, but they were all the same come the disappearance of the pools. _I came from Ventureland and the pool by the train station was gone, I remember taking photos by the Walt and Oz statue and the pool by it sank into cracks around it -_ eventually the stories made their way to Bog Easy, and Horace and Clarabelle learned that the pool near club 13 and at by the jug band were drying up. Which eventually led the two detectives to the most recent disappearance on the Lonesome Manor lawn.

"THERE!" Clarabelle took off before Horace had a second to blink. His horse mouth dropped and he was running right there with her. Clarabelle clutched her skirt as she slowed down. Horace offered her a hand as they knelt down right at the edge of the one patch of dried, cracked, in desperate need of lotion dirt in a lawn that's been green since the dawn of Wasteland. "According to Bertrand, this is where the pool should have been after it moved from his yard."

"And his yard was still in tact. Yes." Horace concurred. He ran his fingers to the dirt patch. It was brittle under his touch. The cracks spanned into holes as he traced his fingers to them. Chills ran down his spine, and nearly had Clarabelle running when a chain reaction traveled the cracks and turn the patch into a dark hole right before their very eyes. Horace grabbed Clarabelle by the shoulders, dragging her back a safe distance when the newly formed hole swallowed some portions of the grass. She held on to her skirt to fend off the eerie wind roaring out of it. "Oh my goodness!"

"That shouldn't be happening!" Clarabelle whimpered.

"None of this should be happening!" Horace corrected her, taking out his magnifying glass. He analyzed the hole. The decay was seeping beneath the grass. Almost like the ripped away guardians caused a rapid aging. Which in turn devoured whatever resided in the hole as they were...whisked away. "I've never seen anything like this." Horace breathed with fascinated horror. He whipped around to Clarabelle, hyperventilating at how Wasteland Shattering this is. "When Guardian Pools move, it's not only wilful, it's also because if they breath too much life to where they roost…"

"It causes problems like it did in Ventureland." As mentioned before...the jungle had a little too much juice. "But when they do move, it leaves an effect that helps life thrive."

"Correct! BUT," He erected an educating finger in her face, "This is the complete opposite of live thriving." That daunting abyss lying mere yards from Leona and The Ghost Brother's home. "This I find similar to when you force a child to leave their favorite candy store. Kicking, screaming, and a whole lot of damage to pay for."

Clarabelle smiled, catching on to what he was saying. "The Guardians draw strength from Wasteland while giving strength to Wasteland." A perfect symbiosis. She bounced a finger over the hole. "They are putting up a fight, drawing too much energy from the land, because they are being forcibly removed!" She and Horace had a grandstanding epiphany. "Someone is draining the Guardians and their pools! The quake was caused by The Guardians wrestling with their abductor!"

"YES!" Horace neighed louder than he wanted, and shocked Clarabelle with a bear hug. "We solved it! We have to tell-" Horace was struck by a club to the side of the head, render unconscious the moment he hit the grass.

"HORACE!" Clarabelle cried. She shrieked at the Blotworx trudging toward her, desperately throwing whatever she had in her purse at it. The Blotworx raised its club. Clarabelle cowered behind her arms. There was a sickening crack and Clarabelle hit the floor. The Blotworx scooped up both, tossing them over its shoulder, and it stomped away for the manor. The one pulling its strings watched from the obscurity of a treeline, rather pleased with how easy that was. Seeing no need for his presence, he left in the shadows.

Unknown to the Blotworx, Jamface was stifling an outcry from behind a tree. "Mickey...Oswald...I have to get them!" He staggered away slowly, scanning for any other Blotworx in the area, then kicked his flutter feet into overdrive. He broke the sound barrier entering the projector.

 **To be continued**


	27. Grander Scheme at Hand

**Grander Scheme at Hand**

 **Almost done folks. One or two more chapters. Not sure. But we are definitely almost done.**

 **xxx**

"Here you go!" The Icecream Owner slid a Mickeyjunk Mountain Neapolitan sundae to the table. A disheartened Ortensia was neutral to the eyeballing treat. "One Mickeyjunk Avalanche with extra whip," A ridiculous amount of whip was sprayed all around the top, "Wth five cherries and some nuts." They dropped on with musical tones. "Expecting Oswald today, Ortensia?"

"Nope. Just me...as usual." She sighed woefully, picking up her spoon and digging a three times mouthful of a bite out. She astonished the shop owner when she swallowed the whole thing without getting so much as a brain freeze. The owner backed away in both respect...and fright. The last time Ortensia downed a sundae like this was when Oswald forgot their 21st anniversary. That was a really bad week. This one might be worse. "Yeah...just me...holding down the fort...like some useless housewife." For the first time in years...Ortensia was starting to get very annoyed with her band of friends...and her husband! Especially him. The year before last, Ortensia was broken out of a stone prison after being trapped for...longer than she would care to remember. She had to wait for Oswald...and Mickey to come and save her. By that time Wasteland was saved and back to normal. Then this past year happens and she's on the case with Oswald instead of watching the house. She meets a young and extraordinary girl who becomes one of the best friends she could ask for, and treats her like an equal. Ortensia felt that she grew traveling them with last, actually contributed to the land she helps rule. Now this year comes and she's...on the sidelines while the rest of the Girlfriends Pack is off on some sort of adventure.

"Daisy traveling the lands for scoops, Clarabelle starting her first day in assisting Horace, Cecelia bringing her own boyfriend down…" Three of her best friends leading such exciting lives while she's moping around eating icecream and playing with her bunny children. "UGH!" Ortensia slapped her hand and the spoon to the table. The icecream owner got so scared he threw Icecream in the air, and it landed in a perfect triple scoop on his head. "THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS!" She slapped money down on the table and marched for the door. "I'm not sitting here any longer! It's high time I do something!" She slammed the door behind her, and the icecream on the Owner's head melted in terror.

 **xxx**

Ortensia kicked a stray can, ricocheting it off two lamp posts and landing it in a trashcan. Citizens gave her scores of perfect tens. Then they ran in fear of the mini quakes her stomping was causing. "I am going to Ventureland and giving those bozos a piece of my mind!" She took the first balloon ride to Mean Street North, throwing the fee and a huge tip at the gremlin's face. He didn't question it, but it was a frightening to see Ortensia mad. She was muttering under her breath about how she planned to lay down the law with Oswald and Company. How she won't be told that it was _too dangerous -_ she survived Dark Beauty Castle crumbling to pieces, two Blot attacks, and giving birth to Oswald's kids. She spits danger in the face. She refuses to be told to stay behind and keep everyone calm. Everyone is calm now, but it won't be long before this issue with the Guardians comes to light and they all start panicking again. Besides, she wasn't born to be just emotional support. And she sure as Hades won't listen to any excuses about how Oswald and the others won't be able to fight and keep her safe. She doesn't need to be mommied! She's Ortensia the Cat! She can handle herself!

"Huh?" And just like that, her fury was quelled. Like that candle that was burning at both ends...then it just fizzled out with a raspberry. Ortensia stopped just outside the projector square, brow arched confusedly. "Big Bad Pete?" Big Bad was hobbling to the Tomorrow City Projector with a large sack over his shoulder. Oddly enough, she heard he's been bringing stuff out of City Hall for a while. Like he's moving. But anytime someone asked him what he was doing he would tell them to mind their own business. Ortensia meandered to go ask him what was going on, knowing full well he won't tell her to pop off. Then Big Bad tossed the sack into Tomorrow City, and then he jumped in after it. Ortensia broke into a run, hoping to catch him. The Projector cut off right as she reached it. "What?!" She gasped, placing her hand to the screen. She wasn't sure what was going on. The Projectors are all fixed, the rest in the square were on. So why did this one cut out right as Big Bad went in? More importantly...how was he going to get back?! Tomorrow City has routes to other projectors, but most of the city was destroyed after the quake. Precisely why Ortensia finds it extremely strange that he went there. Tomorrow City was hit the hardest. The buildings were built to withstand a strong wind, let alone a quake. A quake she knows wasn't natural in any sense of the word. The land literally looks like a scene from an apocalyptic movie. Nothing was left. The main projector still worked - small miracle - but not much else was left. "Oh no, Big Bad!" She feared he wouldn't be able to get back. Then she remembered something important. Big Bad was supposed to be keeping an eye on Prescott! If he's trapped in Tomorrow City, then who was watching him. "Well, I wanted to be useful. Here I go!"

 **xxx**

Ortensia took the balloon on a return trip to Mean Street South. Her brain was racking with ways to reach Big Bad, and who to put in charge of City Hall and Prescott while he's trapped. Prescott was the only one who knew how to fix the projectors, Jamface is who-knows-where, and Marcus was still out in the hospital. There was no one to help her fix the Tomorrow City Projector. "One problem at a time." She told herself in her sprint. City Hall, Prescott, direct attention. She reaches the doors, stopped by a closed sign hanging on the door. She rolled her eyes, "City Hall isn't a one stop shop, Pete!" She hissed. She slammed her full foot to the door...it broke open with a terrifying _BAM!_ She went blank in fright at the eices of wall she broke off. "Umm...I'll just blame that on Big Bad!" She raced inside. Sure enough, no one was manning the desk. Which meant no one was manning… "OH NO!" She cried. Prescott's jail cell...it was empty! "HE'S GONE! HE'S ESCAPED!" She screamed.

Prescott's on the loose...gone without a trace, Big Bad is likely trapped in Tomorrow City, and the Guardians are in trouble! Some deity in the universe really has it out for Wasteland. The people are going to lose their minds! And just after peace was restored. "NO! NO! No one can know about this!" She reprimanded herself. It was just as Cecelia said. If anyone learns about what lurking beneath the peace, they've completely lose all hope. Then there will really be no saving Wasteland. But what can she do? The biggest threat to Wasteland, currently, is missing and the guy that was supposed to watch him is trapped in a crumbled land. "Maybe that was Prescott's plan…" She muttered. REGARDLESS, this is a huge problem, and Oswald needs to know about it!

 **xxx**

Ortensia needs to open up a tab with how many times she's using that balloon. She spritnied at her top speed for the Ventureland Projector, praying loudly that she can catch up to Oswald and the others before they get too far in."MS. ORTENSIA!" A panicked cry had her tire screeching to a dead halt at the Ventureland projector. She whipped around. Jamface came huffing and puffing for her, dropping on the final stretch into squeaky bounces at her feet. "Big Trouble! Bog easy! Must help!" He choked out in between hectic breaths. Ortensia arched her brow. She wasn't getting what he's trying to say. He slowed down to catch his breath, able to get enough wind to finish what he has to say. "Have you seen Oswald or ze ozthers?! Zere is trouble!"

Great! As if there isn't enough problems going around today. "They went to Ventureland! What's wrong?!" She pressed, handing him a bottle of water from nowhere.

Jamface chugged the whole bottle and tossed it over his head into a recycle bin. He got perfect tens from his peers too. "It is terrible! Clarabelle and Horace have been taken!" He cried. Ortensia gasped in terror, tears hanging to the corner of her eyes. _No...Clarabelle!_ "A Blotworx attacked zem in Bog Easy! Took zem away before I could do a zthing!" Not that he was foolish enough to take on a behemoth like that alone. "Zey were taken into ze manor. I would have gone after zem..." He rubbed his arm in shame, "I'm not fighter."

"No one is scolding you. You did the right thing." She hugged Jamface, reassuring him that all was well. Had he not come back, Clarabelle and Horace would likely have a worse fate. The longer they remain idle, or if they both go for Oswald and the others, the chances of Horace and Clarabelle being retrieved dwindles. Their trail is going cold as they speak. She has to pick it up. Big Bad and Prescott can wait. "Oswald is in Ventureland with the others! Get them and then come find me!"

"Find you?! Where are you going?!" She answered him by diving head first into the Bog Easy projector. "MS. ORTENSIA!" Jamface screamed for her in vain. Every impulse told him to go after her. This was too dangerous for her to go alone. Precisely why he knew he had to go get Oswald and his friends. "Please be safe until zen!" He gave her a salute, then went into Ventureland.

 **xxx**

Mickey, Gus, Cecelia, and Oswald emerged from the projector, immediately smacked in the face by Ventureland's famous humidity. It baffled them how Prescott would be able to stand doing any sort of project in this weather. Let alone a secret one. Cecelia will testify, that gremlin has the tenacity of a juggernaut. He doesn't stop once he gets going. Both a dangerous and fortuitous attribute to have. Nevertheless, in spite of their reason for coming to Ventureland, Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia needed to take in how beautiful Ventureland looked. It was a good sight to behold that not much of the land was destroyed by the quake. Then again, the place is so racked with weeds, massive trees, and other brush that no one would notice evidence of a stampede of wild elephants. Honestly, it was still really nice. Let anyone say what they will about Ventureland, it's always a nice place to go visit. Definitely better than Bog Easy. If anything, Mickey and Cecelia would say this is the one place that looked like it was picking up since the quake hit. The treehouses running across the canopies were a nice new touch. Tiki Sam's place looked good with it's fresh coat of paint, and the pirates are even less salty. And the tiki faces carved into the rock look like they had some years chiseled off. Maybe they can have a smooth jaunt through here and find out what Prescott's is hiding without any real obstacles.

"MICKEY! OSWALD! CECELIA!" So much for that plan. Daisy and her Camera Blot ambushed the trio right at the bridge, waving crazily at them. She's not so much an obstacle as much as she is a bump in the road. The trio were happy to see her all the same. Even waved to her. The poor Spatter carrying her camera that was bigger than he is tripped. Daisy quickly helped him up, cutting the feed a moment to sort out the technical difficulties. She is always live after all. Once she was all sorted out, she caught the trio off guard by starting the interview she didn't even ask permission for. She's a strong believer in _Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission._ How Donald puts up with her. "Daisy Duck reporting in for the Duck News Network." She spoke to her viewers with not the slightest edge in her tone. She's very confident in front of the camera. Something to be admired. "I'm here with our Lucky Leader Oswald," Who proudly stuck out his chest with his hands to his hips, "The Heroic Mickey Mouse," He sheepishly waved to the camera, "As well as the Tough as Nails Sorceress Cecelia." She shyly giggled shyly, blushing with her hands behind her back. "So, my friends, what brings you to Ventureland?" She extended the microphone.

Oswald happily skipped into the spotlight to bring the latest. "We're investigating the construction site. See, Mickey, Cecelia, and me are-"

"But the Mad Doctor closed down the construction site because of the alleged danger." Daisy effortlessly shut him down. Though her own skepticism was in her statement about the site.

Oswald yanked at his ears in frustration. There goes the Doc again, doing things without Oswald's permission. "He had no right to do that!" He turned to his friends. "When did he start making decisions around here?!" Mickey shrugged, and Cecelia twisted half way away. She was gone for a few days, after all.

"Well you've been off adventuring while he's been repairing Wasteland." Daisy when from inquisitive to accusatory with a smooth transition. The camera zoomed in on Oswald's guilt ridden face. "Don't you think we toons have noticed your absence? What you being our LEADER, in all?" Oswald lurched forward in shame, his ears hanging limply. He knows he's been running around a lot lately, but it wasn't out of fun. He was...just trying to restore Wasteland.

"It's not like he's playing games while he's gone, Daisy!" Cecelia, who has had enough of Daisy prodding, stormed on camera. She put her hands supportively to Oswald's shoulders, getting that bunny to stand tall. "He's been running himself crazy trying to figure out who broke the projectors, and helping toons where he can! Everything none of you had the spine to do!" Gus and Mickey put their hands to their mouths, absolutely shocked that she said that. Oswald, however, was still too down in the dumps to react.

"That's pretty big talk coming from the girl who ran away home after learning her own boyfriend was the mastermind behind the projectors failing and the theft of your magic.." Daisy turned that sword on Cecelia and plunged it so deep she nearly broke again. "Can you tell us how it is you never noticed that it was Prescott who was behind all of these crimes? You were the one closest to him. Surely you must have sensed something." Cecelia got a bad case of cottonmouth. She was sinking with Oswald.

"Goodness, Daisy…" Gus went up to her, "Lighten up on the poor kids, won't you?" Surely she sees how harsh she's being.

Daisy's confident face wavered to sorrow. She knows how she sounds, and she doesn't mean to do it. She put her hand to the mic, lowering her voice to an apologetic squeak. "I'm...just doing my job. You two understand, right?" She pleaded. Oswald and Cecelia shared glares, then nodded grudgingly with folded arms. They understand. Doesn't mean they have to like it.

"So the Mad Doctor closed down the construction site?" Mickey chimed in, wanting to divert the conversation to something less likely to result in a fist fight.

Daisy covered the mic, not wanting too much of her sources to be blown across the world. She has to maintain the element of surprise...as well as not give away Oswald and Mickey. "He said it was _too dangerous,_ " A direct quote with a misleading meaning, "And he put Pete Pan in charge too. A just in case should someone get into her her stylish head to find out the truth." Cecelia and Oswald rolled their eyes. _Stylish my tail,_ they both mentally snarled. And then it was back to the interview. "So, Oswald, how would you respond to all the Pro-Mad Doctor Toons?" Oswald kept himself from screaming, only to half black smoke whistle from his ears. He shoved the camera to the ground, then stormed off. Cecelia's eye twitched and the camera exploded. The film reel was safe. Landed in the Spatter's hands. Daisy sighed defeated, "Well that's a wrap." She and the Spatter packed up what was left. "We'll see what we can do in post." She turned to Mickey, Cecelia, and Gus. "I don't see why he's so upset."

"THAT'S EXACTLY THE PROBLEM!" Cecelia blew up at her, tears clinging to the corners of her eyes. "YOU DON'T SEE ANYTHING THAT ISN'T ON THE OTHER END OF YOUR STUPID CAMERA!" Daisy was really taken aback. Cecelia's voice was cracking from her trying not to cry. Mickey and Gus reached out to her, "DON'T!" She smacked their hands away, joining Oswald over by the projector to pout.

"I just...I just wanted their side of the story." Daisy innocently remarked.

"Oswald feels he is being forgotten again. And Cecelia feels responsible for Prescott." Gus explained gently. "I'm sure they'll buck up again once we figure out Prescott's schemes." _Or...the scheme of the one lurking in Prescott's shadow._ He added to himself.

"The construction site is full of secrets." Daisy confirmed. "But...I don't wanna talk about it here. There are EARS everywhere, you know." Oh, they know. It's how their enemies have stayed four steps ahead of them the whole time. "Stop by my house and I'll give you the scoop." She was about to depart...when she caught Oswald and Cecelia sinking in their misery. Those two were in really bad shape. "Gus, are you sure they'll be alright?"

"They are tough sports. They'll work through it." He promised her. She sighed heavily, really hoping he was right. Then she headed home. Gus and Mickey turned to their friends, honestly really doubting how these two will bounce back from this.

Oswald was pulling at the grass while Cecelia crushed bugs under her thumb. The Leader who ditched his people to go solve mysteries, and the Sorceress who let a mechanic pull the wool over her eyes. "Everything seems to wanna work against us this time, doesn't it?" Cecelia moaned.

"No kidding." Oswald threw his wad of grass. It just blew up like everything else.

"MYYY FRIENNNDDDSSS!" Heads snapped to the projector at a distant voice growing dangerously loud. Some sort of projectile broke the sound barrier on its exit, blew everyone's hair straight, and then crashed into a totem pole upside down and plopping on its head. Oswald and the others blinked confused, turning the heads to the mystery object that made a very dramatic entrance.

"JAMFACE?!" Gus and Mickey cried. Jamface was the object that propelled himself out of the projector. His landing wasn't very...painless. The poor gremlin moaned in agony. The whole world was spinning as he toppled onto his side. Mickey and Gus rushed over and gave him a lift up right.

"Jamface! What's wrong?!" Oswald put a bag of ice from nowhere on the large lump swelling on his head. Cecelia gave him a quick heal spell to clear up the dizziness.

"We have trouble!" He blurted, ignoring the stress it put on his wound. "Clarabelle and Horace were ambushed in Bog Easy! They were taken by a Blotworx!"

"They were what?!" Oswald shouted.

"Clarabelle is palling around with Horace?" Was Cecelia's biggest take away from that statement.

"After Tedworth got his Teddy Bear back," Which Cecelia had no clue was missing, "He went back to Bog Easy, leaving Horace with a heavy workload. Part of that load was the vanishing Guardian Pools!" Cecelia bobbed her head. She knows Tedworth was assisting Horace...in his own way. A lot happens in three days. Gus suddenly broke through some block in his senses and slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Ze Guardian Pools are vanishing?!" Jamface heard nothing about this.

"Long story." Mickey summed up for him.

"At the time I didn't think much of it because Gilbert got it to him days ago. No sign that Horace was going to investigate it any time soon!" Now it sounds like he has and he brought a partner Gus pushed in his direction. "How can I be so foolish? They walked right into danger...and I...let them!" He should have known, sooner or later, Horace would stumble upon this mystery and be starved to solve it. "I should have gone to him and insisted he leave this to us!"

"Don't do that! " Cecelia warned him. "I just got over the whole self-blame thing," She raised her hand, "I will smack you if you start doing it too." Gus appreciated her violent reality check. This was no timing for self blame.

"Zere's more!" Jamface raised his hand. He was getting a bad case of the shakes. "Ortensia went into the Bog Easy Projector. She's going after zem!"

Oswald smashed his face to Jamface's "SHE WHAT?!"

"GAH! How did we not see this coming?!" Cecelia pulled ta her ears.

"We have to go after her!" Oswald threw Jamface aside, heading for the projector.

"No, I'll get her!" Cecelia got in his path. "You three need to get to that construction site! Whatever secret is being kept there is going to be related to our missing guardians!"

Of course they know she is right. But to split up after friends were already taken. "Are you sure you should go alone?" Mickey pressed. One of them should go with her.

"Jamface will be with me." He was honored to be her plus one into the hazardous Bog Easy. "And besides," Cecelia elbowed Oswald, "We knew she wouldn't sit on the sidelines forever."

Oswald smiled tenderly, bobbing his shoulders in defeat. She was right about that one. "Alright." He tapped on his communicator pin. "Call us when you find her."

"I will." He promised. "Good luck with Pete Pan!" She motioned Jamface with her and they were back inside the projector.

"We're going to need it." Oswald mumbled. Pete Pan isn't exactly flexible.

 **xxx**

Somehow this seemed much more eventful in Ortensia's head. She would arrived to Bog Easy, see a string of clues that will tell her what went on leading to Clarabelle and Horace's abduction, and then she would blow the lid of that mystery, and hopefully the Guardian's mystery. Instead she's wandering around like a scared kitten with her tail between her legs because she feels like she's being watched. She was bumping into everyone and everything in the process of spotting the nonexistent eyes. Well, that's not entirely accurate. Someone, and she will refrain from saying who for fear of exciting a panic, sent that Blotworx to abduct Horace and Clarabelle fearing that they were on their trail. Or worse...whoever abducted them...has someone spying for them! Those spies could be anyone that's she's passing! They could be telling The Mad...the ASSAILANT right now that Ortensia is there. Not that they know what Ortensia is doing! She hasn't made it known that she's looking for Clarabelle and Horace. In fact the tale she spun was that she was looking for Fineas to give him back the bucket of ectoplasm he let her borrow. True story. Don't ask. Anyway, back to brass tacts, Ortensia isn't making it obvious that she's there to get the scoop on Horace and Clarabelle. Not that...it looked like there was anything to be scooped.

Ortensia has been walking through Bog Easy for a while now and so far...no one seems to be out of sorts about anything. Not that she was expecting a huge stampede of people running around screaming about a kidnapping or assault. Horace and Clarabelle have friends here, but they aren't exactly unknown for going off the radar for their works. But someone had to have known about the incident at the Manor. It's the pinnacle of Bog Easy. A squirrel can't get food there without someone talking about it. So how is it that two people can be taken and only one person sees? All the questions she has are on the verge of being answered. She was drawing closer to the manor.

"Hi there, Ortensia!" Donald waved to her.

"Hello, Donald! How are you?!"

"I'm great. Listen, can you do me a favor?" He handed Ortensia a very familiar magnifying glass. "I found this near the manor when I went to go dig up some bait for fishing. Can you get this back to Horace? I'm late to my date with Daisy, and Horace will make a case out of how he dropped his magnifying glass." And he doesn't have time for that.

If Donald knew how right he was about the mystery of the lost magnifying glass his feathers would fall off. Ortensia cleared her throat, carefully taking the glass back. "I'll get it to him. Sure."

"Thanks! You're the best!" And then Donald was gone. Ortensia eyed the glass fretfully. He found it abandoned at the manor. Scarier still is that the glass was cracked. This is a sign. Horace and Clarabelle are in danger and they need help. FAST! Ortensia tucked the glass away and broke into a sprint.

Ortensia clawed her way up the Manor's slope, huffing and puffing as she climbed up the high ledges. Oddly enough, this was a lot harder the first time. She came to the yard, on her hands and knees as she scanned the front yard. Just as spooky as she left it. New to the terrain, however, was the decayed patch of dirt just yards from the front door. "It can't be…" She breathed. She ran over to the patch, crying out in terror to find it was a bottomless pit into darkness. The wind blowing up her body carried an ominous mona with it, sending chills down her spine. "Where...how...why…" She dropped to her knees, staring into the void in despair. So many questions were erupting in her head. All of the answers were the same. The Guardian pool - the Guardians themselves - left this pit. The land was just eaten away, swallowed into this void to nothing. She touched some grass only for it to waste away in an instant. She felt the ground keeling under her, prompting her to move further away. This was what got Horace and Clarabelle kidnapped. They found this hole, and someone needed whatever evidence it contained to be kept a secret. But one thing was clear. "The Guardian's really are in trouble!"

"They aren't the only ones!"

"YAH!" Ortensia's muscles jump from her skin, the bones jumped out of the muscles, and her soul jumped from her bones in a tower into the air. All of her pieces crashed back together, and she was cringing under the glares of Cecelia and Jamface. Cecelia was tapping her foot nagrily. "Umm...Hey, Ce-"

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!" Cecelia roared at the top of her lungs. Jamface was prepared and was holding hands to his ears. Ortensia's body reverberated under her scream. "Going off on your own?! After two people were just abducted?! How can you be so stupid?!" Ortensia sank into herself. She felt like that kid being scolded by her mother. "I saw something like this coming, so I'm not too surprised!" In fact she should have bought Ortensia along for the ride. "But did you even think what you would have done if you were captured too?!" Ortensia remained silent. No. She didn't think about this at all. "Thought so."

"I'm sorry! There was no time to go get you!" This wasn't a full lie...but it wasn't the whole truth either. And she knew it. But...she does mean that she's sorry. She didn't mean to scare Cecelia. She just...wanted to be useful. "I'm...I'm sorry."

Cecelia sighed resignedly, weak at Ortensia's kitten baby face. "No big deal." She caved. Jamface laughed under his breath at how soft she is. "I've been doing the same thing the whole time. And you know how much I hate being a hypocrite." Ortensia was able to smile, hugging Cecelia to promise she will be more careful. "Just, please, don't add to the cue of missing friends." She begged, petting her head.

Ortensia cringed, moaning sickly. "That might be harder than you think." She broke from the hug, fiddling nervously with her fingers. "Unless you don't think of Prescott as a friend anymore."

Cecelia and Jamface exchanged baffled glances, then looked back at her. "Why is Prescott part of zis?" Jamface asked. _And he is not a friend!_ Cecelia snarled to herself.

"Big Bad Pete left City Hall, so I went to see who was keeping an eye on Prescott." This is where she got a bad case of dry mouth. The whole time of Prescott's disappearance, she was petrified on how Cecelia would react. But, If Cecelia was going to treat her like an equal...Ortensia needs to reciprocate the courtesy. She approached her fellow feline. When she held her hands, she felt Cecelia stiffen nervously. The two swallowed a large lump. Ortensia realizes, given that Cecelia is very much scared, that she's making it sound like she's about to report a death. "Cecelia, his cell was empty." Thunder boomed in her mind. Jamface's jaw fell open. "Prescott's gone.

"What?! Empty?!" She grabbed Ortensia by the shoulders, shaking her. "Ortensia, how was his cell empty?! He was locked up!"

"I don't know, but he wasn't there when I went over!" She glanced scared at Cecelia's monster grip, wordlessly telling her she was hurting her. Cecelia quickly let her go, apologizing with fanning hands. But her head was spinning. _Gone...he's gone! THAT RAT BASTARD ESCAPED!_ Guardian pools are vanishing, there's a secret construction site, Big Bad is M.I.A, and now Prescott is on the loose all the while the Mad Doctor is effortlessly winning the hearts and minds of everyone in Wasteland. Can this day GET anymore annoying! "Cecelia, I'm so sorry! I should have come and told you sooner!"

"No." She wagged a finger. As much as she wishes she was there to be able to throw Prescott back in prison, he isn't important. "Prescott warned me that the next time I went there...I wouldn't see him." What he didn't expect was the wrong cat stumbling upon his escape trick. "ONCE AGAIN my blinders are on and he sneaks right past me. Bastard…" She muttered the last part. Ortensia doesn't like swears. "But we can't worry about him or Big Bad right now! Clarabelle and Horace are more important." Still...she should warn Oswald and the boys. She tapped on her pin, linking to Oswald. "Oz, Mick, Gus - you guys there?"

" _Hey, Cecelia! Did you find Ortensia?_ " It was Mickey.

"Yeah, I found her, she's fine." She replied quickly, needing to get to the emergency. "Guys...Prescott's cell is empty. He's gone!"

" _GONE!_ " Oswald boomed on. " _WHAT DO YOU MEAN GONE?!_ "

Normally, Cecelia would joke with a sarcastic dictionary reference, but this was serious. "Ortensia says she saw Big Bad left a little while after we left for Ventureland. He must have escaped during that window."

" _Great! As if we don't have enough to worry about_!"

"But the fact is we do!" Cecelia stressed. That's why she stopped Ortensia from telling her about any other issues until later. "Horace and Clarabelle are missing, you're near the construction site - let's finish what we started and then worry about the missing...bunch munch!" Censorship for the angelic Ortensia. "We're at the manor about to head in. We'll let you know what we find."

" _Okay. We made it to the construction site. We have to sneak in._ " Sounds like Pete Pan wasn't about to let them in. At least not without a price. " _We're going to lose our signal while we're inside. We'll call you as soon as we're out._ "

"Alright. Talk to you soon." She ended the call, then meandered over to the hole in the ground. Jamface hovered close by, ready to save her in case she fell in. The ground didn't look stable at all. No more friends need to vanish. Pure for her own morbid curiosity, Cecelia pinched her thumb and index finger, conjuring a marble of light. She dropped it into the pit...and just watched it fall...fall...and fall...until it was immersed in darkness so much that it just vanished. There was no sound of it hitting bottom. Chills ran down her spine and Jamface's. "At least you didn't see them fall in here." There'd be no reason to search for them. "But this was where you saw them last?"

"Yes. I saw ze Blotworx take zem." Jamface confirmed. "It bashed zem on ze head and zat was it." That was it before he ran for help. "I am unsure in what direction zough." Ortensia knit her brow. Right where they were standing was where Horace and Clarabelle stood. They were carried off. She was having a hard time figuring out in which direction. There were no prints, no drag marks, nothing. "Maybe zey are in ze manor?"

"If they are…" Cecelia wasn't seeing any evidence of where the Blotworx went, "That Blotworx covered its tracks. It could have gone toward the town, for all we know."

"Or it really did go into the manor!" Ortensia announced. Jamface and Cecelia turned to see Ortensia heading to the far west side of the manor, peering around the corner. "Look there!" She pointed near their position. There were large, deep impressions shaped like an ape print in the soil. Jamface knelt to the print, unnerved to encounter the beast that left it. He ran his fingers in the print. The soil hadn't solidified yet. It wasn't that old, giving the hope that Horace and Clarabelle weren't too far off. They might be able to catch up. "The trail comes this way." Ortensia had them follow her finger to the trail of prints, leading to her spot at the corner. Cecelia and Jamface went over to her. "There!" Lo and behold, the tracks end at a cellar door. The Blotworx did go inside the manor with Clarabelle and Horace. Cecelia went over and scooped up the dirt caked to the foot of the door. It hasn't hardened. "Ready?"

"Going into a cellar after a kidnapper? I think I've seen this movie." She joked. And in that movie it's usually the witty ones that get taken out first. Maybe Cecelia should stay outside. No offense to Ortensia and Jamface's comedic talents. Cecelia gripped the handles, then paused with an unnerving thought making the hairs stand up on her neck. "Do you two have anything to defend yourselves with?" Jamface and Ortensia hummed apprehensively, confirming that they did not think that far ahead with this. Cecelia sighed derisively, shaking her head. Jamface then gasped, searching his work belt for weapons. He handed Ortensia a fully loaded nail gun, and some extra ammo, and took out a couple of wrenches for himself. They were ready...in a sense. "Yep. Definitely seen this movie. Okay." Here goes nothing. On the bright side, she won't have to worry too much now. Ortensia clipped the nail gun to her hip. She grabbed the handle of one door, then on the count of three she and Cecelia pried the doors open. The rusty hinges unleashed a harrowing grinding noise, then slammed like thunder to the sides. Jamface choked on the cloud of dust and moths that escaped into the air. He rubbed his eyes clean, spat up what snuck in his mouth. Ortensia gave her a handkerchief to whip it up with. Jamface was grateful, but was starting to really hate the manor. No one believed in cleaning anymore.

Cecelia leaned to the first step, squinting hard in the weighty darkness. The light of the moon only went to the bottom of the 10 steps. From there it was a black wall. All red flags stood up in her head, yelling at her to turn around and go back. This is just like the scene in every scary movie she's seen. "Hey...look here…" She muttered, putting her fingers to the wooden step. She made out the shallow outline of muddy footprints heading in. Straight into the darkness. Figures. "The things I do for friends." She groaned. Ortensia and Jamface pat her on the back. They really appreciate it. She closed a palm, grounding her fingers. " _Lumos._ " She opened her hand. A lemon lime ball of light hovered from her hand. She stepped inside first. The hairs on her ears and tail stood on end at the shrill creak of the step. "I really hate this house." She growled. She meandered down the stairs, the light illuminating not only the footprints, but also the hallmark junk the brothers and Leona have gathered over the years. Drapes, dressers, wardrobes, tables, chairs, crystal balls Leona has changed out of, old clothes, and the list went on. Jamface had to put his discipline to the ultimate test by resisting the spiraling slide he stumbled upon. He really wanted to go down it. Then he saw the girls getting farther away and had to put the slide out of his mind.

The Blotworx made its own path through the clutter. It's trudging steps leaving a clear sign it trasped through here not too long ago. Though it can be certain Clarabelle and Horace weren't crushed beneath this bad episode of Hoarders. Or, at least, they really hope so. That's a terrible way to go. Still, the trio had their weapons ready in the event that Blotworx was lurking about. There's no shortage of places to hide in here. It could be lurking in the ceiling, watching them from inside of pile of junk, or even...walking...behind them. _Thoom….thoom...thoom._ Behind them...something was following...they can feel it. A massive presence looming over them...beady eyes boring into them...large ape like arms extending...teeth sharper than knives. Ortensia touched her nail gun, Jamface readied his wrenches, and Cecelia had a ball of embers in her other hand. Then the thing following them fell with a _BOOM!_ "AAAHHH!" The girls jumped into Jamface's arms. The head of an animatronic Halloween Demon prop rolled past them. The trio raised brows, glancing back at what got their heartbeats racing and saw harness clips had sneakily snagged to their clothing. Imagine their embarrassment when they saw that the thing following them was a giant puppet. An ape demon by the looks of it. It was following along on its track hanging from the ceiling. No one put a capper on the end so it reached the end and just fell off.

"I...REALLY...hate this place!" Cecelia whined.

"As do I!" Jamface grumbled, gently setting the girl down.

"Let's get out of here." Ortensia begged, and they were on their way. Unknown to them, a pair of eyes was set on

Unnerving still is how much clutter is stored down here and yet there was enough room to clear out a couple of walkways here and there. The cellar must huge to fit all of this stuff. If it was ever cleared out, Cecelia would bet money Mickey's house could fit in here. That is if the movers don't hurt themselves on the way in. Jamface was crashing into the dozen of old pianos collecting dust. The keys were broken so they didn't make a sound, save for Jamface hitting them. He ended up getting stuck inside one and came out of the keyboard. Cecelia kept hitting her head on old wind chimes, and getting her hair snagged in those tacky beads you hang from doors. She burned a few to ashes, promising herself to apologize to Leona and the brothers later. Ortensia got her foot tangled in a rope that brought an old ghost prop down. And it happened to come with a voice box, scaring her nine lives out of her again. Jamface unplugged the box, kicking the prop aside. Ortensia apologized a thousand times. Seriously, if no one knew they were there earlier, they're sure aware of it now.

"Tell me we're almost out of here!" Jamface begged. Piano keys were sticking out of his head.

"It's hard to tell." Cecelia pushed the light forward, letting it run the path so they can avoid hitting anything else. Here's hoping Leona and the brothers aren't attached to whatever was broken. "Ortensia? Any ideas?"

"None." She regretted to say. "I've never been in the cellar before now."

"At least we have a path to follow." Jamface put a bright side on things. The footprints assured him that they were heading in the right direction. As long as they follow that, they'll be out of the creepy cellar in no time. And likely find Clarabelle and Horace with nasty bruises from hitting all of this stuff.

A squeaky toy dropped in their path. This time it didn't scare anyone. In fact, it got them laughing. Jamface took a step forward. A gorilla sized hand shot down and crushed to Jamface's head, abducting him into the dank darkness of the ceiling. "JAMFACE!" Ortensia and Cecelia screamed. Cecelia threw the light up. It smashed on the ceiling, the light exploding and spanning across the beams, chasing the darkness away. Cecelia stretched a hand protectively in front of Ortensia. Having Jamface in their massive hand was the venomously snarling ape Blotworx they've been looking for. Jamface wrestled to pry himself from the hand, wailing as it squeezed tighter. His little skull was on the verge of cracking with minimal force.

"HELL NO!" Cecelia roared, lighting shrouding her gloved hands. She won't lose another friend! Not when they're so close! She thrusted the the lightning crafted palms with too much force than intended. Their raw speed electrified the air as the palms spanned for the ape, hungering to strangle the life out of it. The ape dodged the last second. The tips of its hairs caught bits of static, but nothing more. A chunk of the beam it was on was torn away, splinters raining down in cinders. The ceiling itself earning two scorching palm shaped pockmarks. The ape swallowed nervously at that narrow escape. "Ooh…" Cecelia cringed. She sucked on her lips. She really didn't mean to do that. "That would have been Jamface!"

"YES! That would have been Jamface!" Ortensia screamed in her face. Cecelia whimpered in shame, crouching in a corner. Ortensia aimed her nail gun. It was heavier than what she's used to, but she wasn't named the Queen Marks-Cat for nothing! Allowing her arms a second to adjust to the weight, setting the gun to Semi-Automatic, "DROP HIM!" Ortensia pumped the trigger in five spurts. The ape was petrified still when he felt a nail shave hair from his ankles, his wrists, and just past the crown of its head. Hearing the staking behind it, it turned to see what sort of projectile wished to claim its head. The nails imbedded to the head made it leak fluids. Before the ape could turn to see who fired upon him, a sharp pain impaled the wrist of the hand holding Jamface. The ape roared, releasing the gremlin. Jamface was too disoriented from the crushing to regain his flight. Cecelia launched from a glyph under her feet, rocketing right under Jamface and tackling him to a safe landing off one well placed mattress against a pile to the next on the floor. The ape snarled with foam dripping from its mouth at Ortensia. "Come on! Make my day!" With Jamface safe she put the gun back on automatic and went to town. Barrages of nails shredding the air for that ape. It swing across the beams to dodge, leaving trails of nails thirsting for its prosthetic skin in its wake. Ortensia chased him down, vaulting over the cluster of junk. She didn't let up with her assault. She fired those nails with only an inch of a miss to complain about. She darted up a flight of fake stairs, leaping to some old monkey bars and swinging one handed across them to a trampoline. She was bounced as high as the beams, coming to the crossroad where she met the ape. It yelped in terror as the gun was aimed. Ortensia closed one eye and fired her round. They trailed from its cheeks to its shoulder, throwing it to a painful crash landing on top of old china. Ortensia bounced a couple more times, backflipping onto the slide from earlier and come to a safe spot on the floor. She heard the ape growl, prying itself from the shattered plateware. It was out for blood. It grabbed dumbbells lying at the top of piles and let them loose on Ortensia. She sprang back in zig-zag, watching where her feet landed as well as where that ape was aiming. The ape leapt and grabbed hold of the beams, launching a couple of gongs it found like flying discs. Ortensia weaved her body, shivering at the breeze of the gongs barely missing her. They cut clean through piles, causing avalanches. Ortensia was able to escape the falling junk, only to fall back into the fray of chucked exercise gear. She skipped with the grace of a dancer, eventually coming to a block in her escape. She hissed in terror, seeing the ape smile at having her trapped. It picked up four dumbbells at a time, letting them fly like spears. Quick thinking by Ortensia, she shot a rope just by the ape. Squeaking hinges were heard. The ape had a terrible feeling. He looked up. A bundle of sandbags dropped on its head, bringing it to a faceplant into some old pottery.

Cecelia and Jamface groaned in a daze. Thankfully it was only their heads that were throbbing. The rest of them was still in one piece. "Zsank you for zat, Mon Ami!" Jamface panted.

"Are you alright?!" Cecelia checked. His head was still in one piece.

"I will be fine," He snarled, twirling the wrenches, "Once I give zis monstrosity ze WHAT-FOR!" He zipped off, barreling his feet into the backside of that ape shaped machination. Jamface raised the wrenches and stabbed them in the power box on its back. The ape howled in agony. Jamface didn't let up. He pried the power box open and just shredded at its central power. In a matter of seconds the ape was down for the count, a dying whir taking it offline. "Zere! Now I feel better!" He kicked at it. That will teach these abominations to mess with him. "Well done, Ms. Ortensia! You gave zis trash heap its just desserts!" Jamface kissed both her cheeks, in congratulations. "I never knew you were such a warrior!"

"I did." Cecelia proudly stated, putting an arm around Ortensia's shoulders. "The lady is quite the savage when pushed to the brink."

Ortensia giggled bashfully, turning red as a cherry. Jamface and Cecelia were so sweet. "I'm just glad you both are alright." And she's really glad she didn't run out of nails before Jamface took that thing out. And Cecelia was worried that she and Jamface wouldn't be able to defend themselves. "Hmm…" When her attention fell on the ape, however, the adrenaline pumping in her veins fizzled to nothing. She became scared all over again. "Jamface, was this the one who took Clarabelle and Horace?"

"Ze very same…" He became unnerved as well, scanning the junk they unintentionally destroyed. "You don't think...no…" He pleaded. His stomach flipped. "No...no…" He can't believe this. Clarabelle and Horace...they can't be lost in this mess. They can't. Cecelia covered her mouth, trying her hardest not to cry out. No one would be so depraved to just throw them...away like garbage? Ortensia's knees were buckling. Tears were stinging her eyes.

"So you're the schmucks causin' all dat noise!" The three were torn from their defeated mourning, heads snapped up to the ceiling. Ghost Gilbert, his brother Sam who was carrying Leona, and Fineas phased from the ceiling. They frowned irately at the mess that was made to their cellar. Not that it looked much different from before. Really hard to tell if it was a mess, or just reorganized. "You know, I just cleaned this place last month! And you guys just completely ruined it!" Fineas fumed.

"Hey, Leona, Gilbert, Sam," Cecelia sheepishly wiggled her fingers in a meek wave, "G-good to see you guys again." She laughed nervously.

"If by GOOD you mean you intend to ravage our home again," Leona hissed venomously, really ticked at the bigger mess that was made in the bowels of their home, "Then perhaps I should rethink whom it is that I allow into our home!" The manor resonated with Leona's fury, rumbling like the belly of a beast. Ortensia and Jamface huddled closely to Cecelia for protection. If anyone would be able to fend off Leona's wrath, surely she can. Not that Cecelia would. Not only is Leona leagues more powerful, she's not in the wrong to want to boot them out. The last time she and Ortensia were in their home was when it was forced into a renovation no one planned, AND was nearly burned to the ground in the same day. Cecelia wouldn't let anyone like that back into her home either.

"What gives?! Why are you destroying our cellar?!" Gilbert demanded, raising a hand to stay Leona's warranted wrath.

"We weren't destroying it, Gilbert!" Jamface insisted, offended to be accused of such a devious act. "We were in the middle of a fight for our lives!"

"What else is new?!" Sam screeched. "But what does that have to do with-" Sam's screeching hitched in his throat. His mouth fell in horror as his eyes fell on the destroyed Blotworx on the floor. "I don't believe it...its still here!"

"What is?" Leona asked concerned.

"That ape thing! I thought I was seeing things after inhaling the Absinthe fumes." Gilbert, Fineas, and Leona glared at him. They've warned him about inhaling those fumes. They make the living drunk in seconds. Ghost just fly into hallucinations. Sam flew over to it to escape their critical galres. He kicked at the exposed springs. "I saw this thing in the manor earlier! It was carrying two sad sacks on its shoulder! Looked like it was on a mission."

"Clarabelle and Horace?!" Ortensia screamed loud enough to terrify Sam, praying those sad sacks are indeed their friends.

"Yeah, them! They were out like lights. " Sam bobbed his head fervently. "This thing really gave them a bruising! But, coming from a ghost, I can tell you they were alive and breathing."

"That's why we're here!" Cecelia spoke up. Now they were getting somewhere. "Look, I'm really sorry we're making a mess of your home again, but we wouldn't be if Clarabelle and Horace's lives didn't depend on it. All of Wasteland, actually." This got the ghosts raising their brows. It sounded dramatic, but they're learned to never doubt the friends of Oswald and Mickey. Cecelia took a breath, steeling herself for what she was about to do. No sense in keeping the secret from these guys. Not if they want to reach Clarabelle and Horace. "The Guardians are in danger, that's why Wasteland had that huge earthquake and was rocked by aftershocks." The ghosts gaped in awe, exchanging glances. By the looks of it, they guessed the same thing. As Ghosts, they have a spiritual connection with the Guardians. And seeing as they have - HAD - a Guardian Pool outside their front door, it didn't take them long to know that the little guys were in trouble. "Clarabelle and Horace were investigating when they got attacked. Finding out where the Guardians were going would have exposed who or what was behind this. Jamface saw them get dragged in here, but we don't know where."

"Lucky for you, I do." Sam heartily admitted. No one attacks their pals and gets away with it. Leona and his brothers backed him. Using their home to abduct their compatriots for a second time will not be tolerated. "This thing was lugging them up towards the attic."

"The attic?" Jamface questioned. "Where the Mad Doctor's old lab used to be?"

"You mean it's been fixed?" Cecelia shuddered. The attic wasn't her finest moment. But it brought a wave of relief crashing down on her and the others. This means Clarabelle and Horace aren't buried alive in this rubble. They're alive and well...for now.

"We fixed it up a while ago," Gilbert answered, "But no one's been up there since. We kinda forgot about it." He shrugged at the irony of that. Ortensia and Cecelia shared unnerved, yet very angered, glances. As if they need anymore proof that the Mad Doctor is behind their abduction, or the disaster still rocking Wasteland. "There's an elevator over this way you can take straight up to it!" Gilbert parted some curtains, revealing the shaft that shot straight through the floor. Things were starting to look up for Cecelia, Jamface, Ortensia, and their two missing friends. "When you find those two, give them our best."

"We sure will!" Ortensia planted a kiss on Gilbert's cheek, then burst into the elevator.

"Thanks, Guys!" Cecelia waved, racing to the elevator. "I promise we'll leave the attic in one piece this time!" Leona's hard stare warned her that they had better. Jamface gave them a salute and joined them. The elevator closed, Jamface pressed the button for the attic, and up they went.

"Good luck, Friends." Leona wished. And she and the Ghost brothers returned to haunting the corridors.

 **xxx**

The ride up wasn't very long at all. In fact, neither of the trio were able to ponder a topic of conversation before a ding sounded their arrival. Jamface and Ortensia were about to open the doors when...shaking hands gripped their shoulders, stopping them. They turned with baffled expressions, then were taken aback by the sheer terror quaking Cecelia's to her core. The blood was drained from her face. Gut wrenching whimpers escaped her partially parted lips, her teeth chattering. Hairs from her head to her toes were standing on end. Her feet were pigeon toed, knobby knees knocking together feverishly. Her tail was wrapped tightly to her waist, ears folded back so far they were practically tearing off. Her hands slid from Ortensia and Jamface's shoulders, traveling their forearms as she fought to maintain her stance on her way to gripping the handles. She had to squeeze the handles extra hard to not only keep from falling, but so she wouldn't retreat. She found it hard to swallow her nerves. Her whole throat was drier than Prescott's sense of humor. Her breathing would quick, then slow, then become irregular, and often stop. Ortensia and Jamface grabbed the knobs with her, promising to do with with her. They had to turn the knobs, yes, but it was Cecelia closing her eyes as she re-entered...The Mad Doctor's old lab.

There wasn't some sort of bright light that graced them upon entry. An acrid wall of decimating fumes from the thinner pools consuming more than half the attic brushed their flesh. The elevator let them out near that vault of the Doctor's. A notorious blast repellent door that hid all of his worst secrets and concoctions. Could be where Clarabelle and Horace are being kept. That was the first thought that came to Jamface and Ortensia's minds. Jamface was already working on a means to open the door, fidning it laced with boobytraps and alarms that will hinder rescuing their friends. He will have to work his magic to its breaking point in order to get past this door. The Mad Doctor would never make such a secure contraption without an easy means of disabling. Only proving that what they seek lies beyond.

Cecelia...Cecelia hadn't even noticed the door. She wasn't even thinking about Horace and Clarabelle. Too enthralled by an eerie trance luring her further inside...what became one of her darkest nightmares. With the exception of the missing ceiling, everything was exactly as it was a year ago. Her head was spinning. Crazed circus music playing in her head as she soaked it all in. Generators embedded to the walls, powering the cylinders dangled from the exposed metal beams. For what purpose...Cecelia didn't care. She sluggishly reared her heads around, growing dizzier by the second. Old scene props and the costumes were new. Though the costumes looked too big for anyone except the Pete's to wear. Train tracks that lead to nowhere were scattered about the floor, and suspended above the largest thinner pool on the other side. The Beetleworx replicator is definitely a tacky new addition. Cecelia's chest was tightening. It was getting harder to breathe. She turned on her heels, unable to take much more. Then...she stopped...on the verge of vomiting. There...right by the vault door...cast aside like junk...were the operating tables she and Mickey were strapped too. Thunder and Lightning sounded from nowhere. The flashing of the blinding light reverted the Attic to its previous arrangement in flickers. Cecelia clutched at er chest, able to see The Blot, The Doctor, and the Ghoul Blotlings howling with laughter as they sucked at their nightmares. Oswald and the others arriving. Everything...her memories...her nightmares...all laid bare. Cecelia couldn't catch her breath...everything was spiraling out of control in side of her. The more she labored, the more the mixed aromas of the open room flooded her nose. Moss, mold, the outside humidity, the thinner. It was nauseating. One scent that reached it sent her to her knees. The smell of burning wood...melting flesh...and ink. From when she lost control...nearly burned the place down. Nearly burned her friends alive... _Prescott. Prescott..._ He got her to stop, said she wasn't a monster...made her fall in love...then he betrayed her, lied to her, deceived her, used her - lies, lies, lies, betrayal, hurt... _Bastard, bastard, bastard..._ The Blot, _rot!_ The Doctor, _rot!_ Michael, _rot!_ Those kids, _rot!_ Prescott - " _EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU CAN ROT IN HELL!"_ Her voice distortedly howled with two voices. Cecelia bashed her head into the floor...bringing it all to a deafening halt. She slowly started to breathe again. Her thoughts collected themselves...and she just went numb.

"C...lia...CECELIA!" She broke out of her trance. Her head shot up, earning her winces from Ortensia and Jamface at the red marks on her forehead. Cecelia had to scan the room in order to remember where she was. She kinda got lost in the past. "Are you okay, Cecelia?!" Ortensia knelt to her.

"No...no I'm not…" She sobbed. She curled her fingers, driving her nails into the wood. "To be back in here...after what I did…" She looked at her hand like there was blood on it. "After what The Blot and Doc did to me…" She looked at the other, unable to escape The Blot's heinous touch. "After what they almost did to Mickey and the rest of you." She clutched her hands at her tearing heart. "I feel sad...ANGRY...scared." She lifted her gaze to the operating tables. "Right there…" She growled shakily, pointing to those tables, "Right there on that table...I relived every horrid memory I tried to suppress. You all saw the magic I tried to contain...and later you all learned my secret…" The crimes that trapped her in the ten year old body they see, and left her broken and alone for so long. Right here in this attic, after not even five minutes, she relived every solid second. "I hate this attic...I hate the Doctor…" She bit her lip so hard she drew a trickle of blood. "I hate him and The Blot so much! I just...want...TO INCINERATE THEM!" A flurry of flames ran up her body, extinguishing in a flutter above her head.

"That is understandable. We don't think less of you for feeling that way." Ortensia reassured her. She cupped her chin, having her look at her. "If I'm being honest, I would be more scared if you felt nothing here. It would mean what followed that even meant nothing."

"What followed?" Cecelia was drawing a blank.

"How we learned what a strong, powerful, and talented young lady our best friend is." Cecelia's eyes lit up. Jamface smacked her on the back, seconding that motion. "We learned that someone amazing had come to save us, and you learned to open your heart to others again." Ortensia slipped her hands to Cecelia's shoulders, massaging new courage into her. "I'd say this place did wonders equal to horrors for you."

And there is that ray of sunshine breaking through Cecelia's dark clouds. "You're...you're right...as always." She hugged her fellow feline, feeling her heart grow three times. "Thanks, Ortensia."

"Always, Cecelia." She hummed.

Jamface wiped away a tear drawn by this beautiful moment. It's always nice to see the girls getting along. He was about to return to the door, when he heard a strange flickering sound. A sound he knows very well. "That sounds like a projector reel." He moved side to side, straining his hearing to scout where it was coming from. He flew higher to get a bird's eye view. He didn't have to soar far. "Goodness!" He gasped. At the end of the tracks over the thinner pool, he saw a projector up and running. "Ladies! Up here! Zere is a projector!"

"There is?!" The two cried in confusion. Jamface flew down and gave them a hand. He may not look it, but he's one strong guy. He was able to lift the girls and bring them onto the tracks. The girls could hardly believe their eyes. There really was a projector up there.

The three ran over to it, analyzing it like it was an alien craft. The projector was fully operational. And there were footprints going in and out of it. Like someone had recently been using it. "How can this be?" Ortensia breathed shocked. "Gilbert said no one's been up here."

"The perfect cover." Cecelia added ominously. "Forgotten areas like The Gulch, Rainbow Caverns, The Floatyard - they're perfect for avoiding unwanted snoops." By gilbert's own admission, not even he, his brothers, or Leona go up there. No real reason to.

"Which means our friends could be through here instead of in zat door." Jamface proposed. If this whole conspiracy is about being inconspicuous, hiding captives in a vault would be too obvious. Ortensia and Cecelia didn't disagree...but it was too great a risk to not check both. "Precisely why I will remain here to figure out a way into zat door." Jamface came around and volunteered. "Ze truth is, we don't know where our friends could be. Zerefore we should explore every option." He proposed. "You two go on ahead. I'll have that door open by ze time you return."

"Are you sure?" Ortensia questioned, frightened to leave him alone.

"Whoever was here has clearly gone for ze time being. Besides, I can teleport out if zsings get too hairy." He proved his point by teleporting from them to the vault door on the other side. He waved at them, dancing around like a happy clown. "I will be okay! Go see what is hiding on ze ozser side of zat projector!" He insisted, then went to town on the door. Ortensia and Cecelia saw they weren't going to drag him from his work, so they held hands and jumped into the projector. "Now zen...where to begin."

The Beetleworx replicator turned on. A pirate beetleworx trudged on out, spotting Jamface near his master's secret vault.

 **xxx**

Ortensia and Cecelia left the projector, landing in some sort of Grand Central Park. Felt more like a canyon that was decorated to feel like a park. Worked though. Cecelia feels slightly less unnerved by it. Although she can't figure out why all of these cars were lying around. "Nice place. Where are we, do you think?" He question went unanswered. She began to think she was the only one who came out of the projector. Nope. Ortensia was right there. She was stuck in some sort of stupor, though. Her face completely fell like she had discovered the lost city of Atlantis. "Ortensia? You okay?"

"I...don't...believe it!" She stepped forward. She feared she'd pass out if she went in deeper, but it was a risk she was willing to take. "I...I didn't think it survived! But it did!" She was skipping in place, going mad with glee. "Cecelia, do you realize what this place is?!" Cecelia glanced side to side, making it obvious she didn't. If anything, she thinks Ortensia has lost her mind. "This is Autotopia! One of the most Popular places in Wasteland since Tomorrow City! People used to come here for the races before the Thinner Disaster hit."

"No kidding." Cecelia relied with intrigue.

"The winners of different races would earn prizes like _King for a day, free year's supply of ice cream, a tour through the caribbean._ " Ortensia swooned, fanning herself at an old memory. "Oswald won us both a weekend in the highest penthouse in Tomorrow City." Obviously a very romantic weekend that likely resulted in an increased number of bunny children. "We all thought this place was lost after the Thinner Disaster hit. I'm so happy it's in one piece."

"More than just in one piece." Cecelia ran her hand to one of the cars. A place that was supposed to be ravaged by thinner should be in worse shape than the Gulch. This place looked fresh out of the box. "I think someone's been taking care of this place. Look at these cars." She spread her hands to them. "They're immaculate."

"You're right." Ortensia ran to a fencing further in, running her hand to the not even knicked metal. "This fence is brand new. And those electrical conduits," The ones snaking through a carved out vein in the rocky walls, "Those weren't here before." She gasped seeing triple rings of power dash along the conduits. "And they're feeding power to something."

"That something has to be what we're looking for!" Cecelia decreed. And hopefully Horace and Clarabelle are there with it. "Let's go!" Ortensia and Cecelia jumped to the street, ogling the nice cars as they ran inside.

Ortensia and Cecelia used the power conduits as their bread trail. They were more interested than nervous about what they were linked to. Someone had been going to town on restoring Autotopia to its former glory. The red and white liners for the track had a fresh coat of paint and wax, making it glisten. The trees and bushes were neatly trimmed, the street lamps hand L.E.D light installed. A couple of cars were left running. They purred like cats bathing in the sunshine. It was Cecelia and Ortensia's fondest hope that nothing nefarious was happening here. That Clarabelle and Horace aren't going to meet their end in such a historic place. There are very specific reasons why they are cautious with their prayers.

The two came to a hill that overlooked the main square of Autotopia. Immediately the splendor Oretnai painted it in was melted by the thinner of a new reality. Dead in the center of the square was a cylindrical tower, around it were tar covered bumps working on overtime to continuously feed it power. "WHAT SORT OF MACHINE IS THIS?!" Ortensia howled horrified. To have built such a tower in one of Wasteland's most treasured arenas? Why?

"I don't know." Cecelia ran over the railing, climbing up to get a better look. "But I think I know what it does! LOOK!" Cecelia bellowed. Ortensia climbed up beside her, gasping in horror. There was a container strapped into the tower. Trapped inside the container were the missing Turps and Tints, swimming in their own collected pools. "The Guardians are trapped in there! This machine is what's been ripping them out of the land!"

"Causing the earthquakes!" Ortensia finished with an enraged snarl. Unknown to both girls, a large black pool of bubbling ink was secreting from cracks i the road behind them. "That's it! This is the proof we need!" Ortensia declared. "We need to get back to Jamface, find the boys, and confront the Mad Doctor! This has his animatronic fingerprints all over it!"

"I agree!" She and Ortensia jumped down. "Wish I had Mickey's camera. Then I can-UGH!" She stopped in her tracks, extending a hand protectively in front of Ortensia. The pool of ink was spattering splotches all around, gurgling violent with small hisses. Cecelia readied her gloves, and Ortensia her nail gun. Something was coming out. Boney, long, and slender fingers hooked viciously to the edges of the pool. Emaciated skeletal arms pushed up, bringing a spinal cord and rib cage to the surface. Ortensia and Cecelia felt the blood in their veins turn to ice. They recognized that figure. And the second one that was slithering out right with it. These jet black skeletons rose from the pool, arms out and skeleton heads dropped like they were ragdolls whose strings have yet to be tugged. At their hips were tattered inky cloths that billowed in the wind. "This...this can't be!" Cecelia quaked. But it is. Rising from the pools were none other than the Ghoul Blots. "They survived?!"

"News to me as well!" Ortensia squeaked. Sickening cracks came from their necks as they lifted their heads. Their jet black sockets filling with a horrendously familiar green. Their jaws cracked into malevolent toothy grins. Their hunger for the pair before them was insatiable. Cecelia blindly threw a fireball at them, only to feel her stomach drop when it extinguished on contact. She forgot that her magic doesn't work on them. They especially won't work now that a majority of it is gone. They actually laughed at her. Ortensia tried her nail gun. The nails either went through them, or got stuck and were absorbed. The Ghouls...are as invincible as before. "We need to run...NOW!" Ortensia and Cecelia broke into different directions. But they were too slow.

The Ghouls, at the speed of light, scooped up Cecelia by the her skull and ears, and Ortensia by the neck. "No...NO!" Cecelia pleaded hysterically, thrashing wildly and prying at the cold hands on her head. "LET GO OF ME! GET OFF!" She can't get captured by them! They'll dig into her skull agan! "GRAAAHHH!" She kicked the Ghoul in the chest cavity and spine, hitting anywhere and everywhere she could in order to get free.

"AAAHHH!" Ortensia screamed. Cecelia looked to her in dismay. Her nail gun was well out of her reach. The Ghoul put both its hands around her neck and started to squeeze. "AH...ACK...GAH...ARRGH…" Her screamed were choked to dry wheezes. The pressure was mounting in her head. Her brain about to pop like a balloon. Her vision was blurring to black in and out. Her eyes were rolling in the back of her head. Steadily her flailing was losing muster.

"HANG ON, ORTENSIA!" Cecelia knows her magic doesn't affect them, but she also knows they can't withstand everything that knocks into them. She gathered magic from her leg to her foot. She swung all the way back, twisting her body, and then unleashed a hard kick into the Ghoul's rib cage. The Ghoul was sent hurtling like a soccer ball, landing a goal right into one of the cars below. Cecelia landed like a cat to the ground. She ran on all fours for Ortensia, gradually getting back to just her feet. Ortensia was hanging limply in the Ghoul's grasp. Black rings were forming under her closed eyes. She drew both hands back. Sparks gathered erratically to her palms. She pushed off the ground and drove a punch right into the Ghoul's head, sending him getting head stuck in the solid rock wall nearby. Ortensia hit the ground with a thud, but it jerked a breath free. "Ortensia! I've got you! Just hold on!" She begged, cradling her in her arms. Ortensia moaned in response. She was going to be okay. The Ghoul pool was bubbling again. More Ghouls were coming. "Alright, Sweetie," Cecelia shifted around, slipping Ortensia piggy back on her back, "Let's get Jamface and go find Oswald."

"Oh, I think not." Cecelia was smacked upside the side of the head by a hard metal rod. She hit the ground, getting a faceful of dust, while Ortensia fell on her back. Her consciousness was slipping further away. Boots stopped near Ortensia's head. Her eyes started to flutter open. Unfortunately, all she saw was a clad in white blur looming over her. "I am afraid I cannot have Oswald, or his friends showing up just yet." The taser end of the rod was activated. It was jabbed into Ortensia's stomach. She howled in agony. The light left her eyes, and her world was shrouded in black. "Therefore," The foot tucked under Ortensia, flipping her onto her stomach, "One of you will have to serve as a little distraction for me." The boot wearing assailant meandered away from Ortensia, snickering as they noted how drawn to Cecelia the Ghoul's were. The new bloods clawed their way out of the pool, dragging their bodies to her. Ready to feast upon her very life. "I think we have the perfect candidate." Cecelia was battling the violent throbbing in her head. The world wouldn't stop spinning the more she tried to stand. She was on her hands and knees, bringing one knee under her. She heard the person approaching her, felt the Ghouls circling her predatorily. She choked as she tried to breathe in a second wind. A foot connected hard with her ribs, knocking her to her side. She was yanked upright by her collar, battered relentlessly with the prod like a pinata, then was booted right in the stomach onto her back. "I am going to enjoy watching you be regressed into nothing! Just like all of your efforts have come to be thus far!"

Cecelia coughed up blood, rolling onto her hands and knees. Her consciousness was fading fast. The Ghouls were taking taunting dives at her, purposefully missing to get her to squirm. "N...no...not here...not...now…" She wasn't going down. Not like this. Not when they've come so far. Not when Wasteland was on the verge of being free again. "You won't...win...you can't." She swore to her attacker, whom she already knew the identity of. But by the time she had to stumbled to her feet, she was already done for.

"Don't you see yet, Cecelia?" He crooned. She whipped around, bringing a weakly balled fist with her. The taser was rammed into her stomach, a thousand more volts than what Ortensia received were pumped into her. In the midst of the flashing volts, she saw him. Smiling mocking at her was The Mad Doctor. He stopped the taser, flipping it like a sword behind his back. Cecelia's body went limp. She dropped to her knees. As she fell forward, the Mad Doctor roughly grabbing at a handful of her hair, suspending her up right just long enough to whisper, "I already have." Then he slammed her to the dirt, stomping on her head. "And thanks to your Gremlin boyfriend, Wasteland, and soon the Cartoon World, will be mine!" He threw his head back, howling with laughter. Cecelia's body spasmed. Tiny volts sent by her brain commanded that she get up and stop him. But she couldn't. She couldn't move. Everything was...drowning in darkness. The Ghouls had snaked their fingers to different parts of her body, pinning her in place so they may feast. The Mad Doctor put Ortensia under his arm, taking one last scathing glance at Cecelia. "You should have stayed home, Little Kitty. Now you will suffer for the last time." And then he walked away. Cecelia was left to be swarmed by Ghouls, and Ortensia carted off like Horace and Clarabelle.

 **To Be Continued**


	28. The Truth Will Set You Free

**The Truth Will Set You Free**

 **Here we go.**

 **Almost there.**

 **xxx**

Cecelia can hear their ravenous, depraved, hot breath on her flesh. The saliva running profusely from their lipless mouths was sliming to around her, reaching her cheeks. It might as well have been acid as it burned her skin. Feel their cold fingers slithering up her limbs, leaving malignant ink splotches across her body. They were clutching at her skull and chest, digging those boney digits in to begin their feast. Yet she wasn't moving. Or rather, she was unable to move. _The Doc...has a mean...tennis arm._ She wrestled with the throbbing head, commanding her body to move or she was done for. She was only able to move her brow. The rest of her merely spasmed, going limp once more. _Guys...please...any time now._ She begged.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" A fanning stream of thinner, paint, and electricity bombarded the Ghouls swarming Cecelia, sending them to crashes in the ground, nearby cars, and the nicely trimmed trees. Standing atop one of the railings were Mickey and Oswald, rather proud of their timing. _Right on time._ If Cecelia was able to smile...she would demand to know why they are cutting it so close. "CECELIA!" Mickey cried. He and Oswald got to her in one jump.

Gus teleported behind Cecelia, propping her onto his lap. He smoothed a hand to her face, delighted to hear here groaning in response. She was alive. "Is she alright?!" Oswald panicked. _Please, please be alright._

"She is fine! Just stunned...ooh...and sporting new bruises." Gus winced. Cecelia wasn't in the best of shape.

"That's good enough for now." Oswald declared. He looked around, finding two members short in her band. "Ortensia! Jamface! You guys there?!"

"They must have gone for safety while Cecelia held the Blots off." Mickey suggested.

"Then we need to finish this up and find them!" Oswald stated, squaring off to the Ghouls getting back into their fighting stances. They roared shrilly, breaking their eardrums. "Ghouls! I thought we buried them in the deep in the sewers where no one would be able to get out!"

"Guess they dug themselves out." Gus snarled venomously. He spotted to pool from which they spawned themselves. "Mickey, remember what their diet consists of?" He smirked.

"3,000 calories of paint!" And so Mickey served up a buffet of paint. All but one of the Ghouls flew away. The unfortunate one got a mouthful of the horrid paint, choking on it as it corroded it from spine to cloth. The Ghoul blustered and bubbled, howling in agony as it melted into nothing.

"Oswald, we will handle them! Close that pool! A good shock ought to disrupt it!" Gus proposed.

"Already on it!" Oswald ran for the pool. New Ghouls were already trying to climb for freedom. Their malefic green eyes piercing the curdling pool. Oswald cranked his remote to full power. He let charge marshal to the antenna, waited for that Ghoul tickling the surface to bring its sorry face above. It broke through its barrier with a murderous screech. Oswald slammed a fist to his remote button. A condensed beam of unrelenting electricity tore through the Ghoul and dove dip down the throat of the pool. The pool erupted like a geyser, tendrils of electricity weaving in and out of the spout. It tore through the clouds, tarnishing them to a static filled grey. Black ink rained down on Autotopia. The drop popped with pent up static, completely harmless to Oswald and the others. Where the pool resided was dried shut like solid cement. The Ghouls' one shot for freedom was shut in their faces.

Mickey was surrounded by five Ghouls. He wasn't scare of these guys. His brush was loaded with paint for days. He twirled his brush, taking a stance with a smug smirk. "C'mon! I'm not getting any younger!" The Ghoul behind him took him up on that challenge. It went low to the ground, charging for him with its fingers spread like talons. Mickey sensed the Ghoul and backflipped clear over it. He doused the Ghouls hing in paint, sinking him to the pavement. It wailed in agony as it tried to crawl away. The paint was eating away at its spine. Two more came from Mickey on two sides, diving at him from angles. Mickey fooled them with another jump, cringing in midair when they collided heads. Mickey landed with either foot on their heads. He stabbed his brush into one's eye socket. He poured the paint in, swelling the skull like a balloon. Seeing the cracks appear, Mickey used the other Ghoul as a springboard and got out of there. That same Ghoul shrieked at the humiliation, then lost its nerve seeing its friend on the verge of popping. The Ghoul's head exploded, dousing its friend in paint, reducing both into nothing but puddles. The final two snatched Mickey up by the arms. His brush fell out of his hands. The Ghouls flared their free hands. Their fingers sharpened like nails, drawing back to cleave that mouse limb from limb.

"NO YOU DON'T!" Gus threw his wrenches at their heads. They bounced off with gong sounds. The Ghouls dropped Mickey and he dove for his brush. He sprayed one Ghoul top to bottom, melting into into a mess. The other flew out of the way, going for the mouse head on. Mickey effortlessly stepped to the side, wincing at the horrible breath coming from the Ghoul. He touched the Brush to the Ghoul's side, letting a trail of paint run down it. The Ghoul collected at its side, collided hard with its half melted friend from before. Mickey stood behind both and just showered the paint on, watching them wail for mercy as they melted away. He blew on his brush and stuck it ot his back. No Blotlings are a match for him.

Oswald and Mickey returned to Gus and Cecelia. She was stirring, but she wasn't able to come out of her coma state. Oswald found it hard to look at her. He was revolted by the swollen bruises riddling her body. She looks like the unfortunate experiment in a soccer-pinata game. He and the boys can only assume she got like this keeping Ortensia and Jamface safe. Who have yet to make an appearance. Oswald would kick himself later for this. He gave Cecelia a tiny zap. Just a little defibrillating to get her blood pumping. Seemed to work. She was groaning louder. "CECELIA! CECELIA!" He shook her violently. She needed to wake up. They didn't have time to be gentle right now. Cecelia is beaten to a pulp, Ghouls appeared from nowhere after a year, and last time they checked there were two other people with her. "Cecelia! Wake up! Please!" Cecelia heaved a starved breath, her eyes shooting open and constricting into dots. She howled animally, flailing blind punches at Oswald, consumed by a murderous impulse. She screamed incoherently, clawing at his face. Oswald's glad for Ortensia's hissy fits. He was able to fend off Cecelia, her scratching and punching bouncing off him. "Hey, hey, easy! It's us!" Oswald managed to block her punches, catching her wrists to restrain her.

The madness vanished from her eyes, the haze clearing instantly. Her breathing was heavy, hot fumes wafting on every huff. Her shaking eyes found her three friends, bringing her mind to a calming halt. "Oswald...Mickey...Gus?" She wheezed their names. They smiled at her. She was back. "How did you get here?"

"The Construction Site brought us here." Mickey answered, angling her so she'd be able to sit up right. "How did you get here?"

That escaped her. She touched a hand to her head. Her thoughts were all over the place. A giant puzzle that had its pieces thrown everywhere. "Umm…" She pressed her fingertips to one side of her pounding head, flowin a blurred trail from when she joined Jamface and Ortensia. "We came...to the front porch...of the Mansion in Bog Easy." She rasped in a daze. "There were signs of a struggle. Found footprints leading into the cellar." It was coming back to her now. The urgency had her heart pumping. "We fought the Blotworx that attacked Clarabelle and Horace. And then...then we...wait…we?" Mickey, Gus, and Oswald...where are...missing? Two are...missing. "Ortensia…? Jamface…where…" She came here with them...right? No...she came with Ortensia. Jamface stayed behind. The Ghouls...Ortensia...the fight! "Ortensia…! ORTENSIA!" Cecelia twisted onto her hands and knees, panic setting in as a vicious attack. "WHERE ARE YOU?! ORTENSIA! PLEASE ANSWER ME!" She screamed. Ortensia was with her! She fought with her! Then...they were...attacked. THAT'S RIGHT! They were ambushed by the Ghouls and...and...THAT LUNATIC! "ORTENSIA! NO-NO-NO!" Cecelia stumbled as she forced herself to her feet. She was scrambling around in a fit of hysteria, looking everywhere but not able to find Ortensia. "HE TOOK HER! THAT MANIAC TOOK HER! THAT MEANS JAMFACE IS IN TROUBLE TOO!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Cecelia, slow down!" Mickey had to grab her in a Nelson in order to get her to stay put. She wasn't making any sense. "One step at a time!" He urged. "How did you get here?! What happened to Jamface and Ortensia?! Who took them?" If she goes in that order, they will be able to help.

Cecelia ripped herself out of his grasp and then yanked him in by the collar, smashing their noses together. "THE MAD DOCTOR!" Gus and Oswald gasped in terror. "The Mad Doctor was here! He took Ortensia and sicked those Ghouls on me!"

"What?! You sure?!" Oswald questioned her. A bad move on his part. Cecelia growled at him with fire in her eyes and lightning surging between her ears. Oswald became unnerved mainly from hearing The Mad Doctor was there...and he attacked Cecelia. _That...that can't...or can it?_ It is as Prescott said before flying the coop, ' _The culprit is someone they won't want to admit to._ ' That means...what does that mean? Oswald...doesn't know what to think right now. "How does that lead to you getting here?" He gestured to Autotopia.

Cecelia was able to calm down enough to realize she jumped to the climax without explaining the rising action. That's critical after setting the mood with the plot. "The Ghost Brothers and Leona said they saw a Blotworx carry Clarabelle and Horace off for the attic."

"The attic? Why there?" Mickey inquired.

"The Mad Doc's old lab is up there! Looking good as new!"

"That's impossible." Oswald gasped. He would know. He helped fix up the manor. No one made any plans to fix up the attic.

"Not impossible! I was just inside there! No Clarabelle or Horace," She sighed dismally, "But a vault door Jamface was trying to open, and a projector!" She lead the boys to the projector she came out of with Ortensia. "That projector leads straight into the Mad Doctor's old lab! Blotworx replicators, weird costumes, and sure signs that someone's been up there!" This was getting disturbing. First the Ventureland projector leads to Autotopia - a place no one had seen or been to since the thinner disaster - and now they learn someone fixed up the Mad Doctor's old lab. "Unfortunately the trail to Clarabelle and Horace vanished. We saw the projector and assumed they were brought here, and that's when we were ambushed."

"Did you see where the Mad Doctor took Ortensia?" Mickey asked. Oswald flinched feeling his stomach flip.

"He has to have taken her into the attic. Which means Jamface is in danger." Cecelia took note of Oswald's cringing. She felt really bad for him. But like he tried to get her to do with Prescott, he needs to acknowledge the truth here and now. "Oswald, I'm sorry! But I've been right! The Mad Doctor hasn't changed at all!" She might as well take a knife and bury it in his chest. "He's behind all of this! The proof has been staring you in the face." And she isn't talking about just herself. She softened up, seeing Oswald falling apart right in front of her. She took his hands, holding them to her heart. "I'm not saying all of this to hurt you! Really I'm not I just-"

Oswald slipped his hands out of hers to put them on top. He shook his head, then looked her in the eye with such sadness it had her on the verge of crying. "I've been thinking it too." He moaned, startling Cecelia and the boys. He has? Really? He's been hiding it well. Guess there's been so much on his mind that he didn't have the luxury of letting it physically affect him. "I've been thinking about it a lot, but right now our friends need us." This thing with the Doc will have to come later.

"Right!" Gus slapped a fist into his palm. "The guardians need our help first. Then we can track down Ortensia and the others."

"Oh man! I nearly forgot!" Cecelia cursed herself. "Did you guys see-"

"We did." Gus rumbled heatedly. He lead his friends back to the heinous machine robbing Wasteland of its beloved spirits. Three pumps off to the side were just caked with hot tar, pumpining in intervals for an unrelenting gathering of the Guardians. An aftershock rattled the four, and right afterward a handful of Guardians appeared. "Because of that machine, the Guardians are being sucked right out of Wasteland. We need to shut it down."

"Consider it done!" Cecelia snarled. She clapped her hand. A slap of sound echoed throughout Autotopia. She spread her palms. A flurrying ring of green leaves expanded around her, traveling up and down her body to heal her wounds. The leaves erased the bruises and scratches, and massaged away what the Mad Doctor dealt himself. She inhaled a fresh new wind and felt good as new. She charged ahead, really aching to break something. She put her hand to the grass, balancing herself as she slid down a hill. Gus and the boys were right behind her. Cecelia was the first to cross onto the metal flooring, the boys soon after her. A tiny red light imbedded in a rock registered the unauthorized persons. An alarm sounded, stopping Cecelia and the boys in their tracks. A door rose on te machine, revealing nasty looking security measures. The section started turning. Thinner came roaring out of the five spouts. Together, Cecelia and Oswald brought created a large shield. The thinner rolled off, but ate through the two layers with ease. "Yeah, shoulda seen that coming!"

"Guess we shouldn't expect things to be too easy, should we!" Gus partially joked.

"If we've been thinking anything was easy, we really need to rethink our occupations." Mickey drearily mocked them. They should know better than to run up on machinery. Especially when it looks like a cakewalk. "As in a rush that we are, we have to be smart from here on in. The Guardians, and our friends, are depending on us." Mickey earned unanimous nods. One misstep could doom everyone counting on them. It is very clear that this is the machine responsible for tearing Wasteland asunder, and why Mickey hasn't been able to summon too many Turps and Tints lately to aid him in their fights. The security system activating came with an unnerving quirk. The tar caked pumps began to pump even faster, causing a frightening vibration to rock Autotopia, and carried on like echoing thunder in the distance. Mickey, Oswald, Cecelia, and Gus went stiff as board, shaking like maracas. Their yelps were stretched into alien moans. Another aftershock was initiated by the evil machine, bringing three more handfuls of Guardians to join their brethren in the cylinder. Oswald and the others aren't sure of the length of time they had. But judging from how long the aftershock lasted, and how virulent it was, they aren't shy about saying...not a lot.

Gus spotted the means of ending one of their problems. When the security system activated, it revealed access ports on the sides. Those would surely shut the machine down and let the Guardians escape. However, the thinner spraying spouts weren't going to let them get much closer than they are now. Leaving Mickey to guess where their next answer to this problem lied. He noticed vets lying around they were spraying out an excessive amount of steam. He noticed them earlier, figured it was due to fumes inside the sewers. But he was convinced they were connected to the machine when it kicked into overdrive. He isn't sure how exactly, but he knows if they plug up those vents, something good will come of it. He's learned from Gus and the other gremlins that causing pressure build up anywhere is a catastrophe waiting to happen. They just needed something to plug the vents up with. Oswald had the answer there. The old cars. Cecelia was already on it. She saw five vents lying around. She drew a levitation charm on five slips of paper, and handed one to each of the boys. She and them then went to a different car, firmly setting the slips. Cecelia crossed her wrists, muttering the incantation that made these hefty muscle vehicles lighter than air. She swept her hand up. The bonds of gravity released the cars. The boys never cease to be amazed by magic. Cecelia breathed heavily. The cars may be floating, but that didn't necessarily make them light. A bit of an oxymoron on the spell's part. Spreading her feet, she flourished her arms, swaying her hands as if she were commanding the breeze itself. She shifted her stance like those who practice Tai-Chi, guiding the cars to the intended vents and placing them on top. The intense geysers hurling from the vents fought the capping cars, barring them mere inches from stopping their flow. Cecelia was breaking a sweat against these vents, growing more irritated by it by the second. She's been beaten, blown up, heartbroken, robbed, and assaulted by every Blotling since come back to Wasteland. She is NOT by ANY MEANS going to be defeated by steaming wafts of air. Cecelia curled in her middle and ring fingers, reorienting the lighter than air spell into a heavier than lead spell. The plating on the cars was coated in a slick oil, then they dropped hard to the vent, cutting off their exhaust completely. There was a choked, gurgling sound that traveled beneath their feet. Bulges blemished the pavement, but didn't burst, on their way back to the ground around the very machine they mean to destroy. Mickey was always great with his hunches. The thinner spouts ran dry, leaving a puddle to idle. Gus went over and winked to the fourth wall. He slapped on a thinner proof glove, rifled inside the massive puddle, and pulled a tub plug. The thinner flushed into the drain that came from nowhere, freeing Oswald to reach the access port. He worked fast to link up with the first accessport. The cypher key built into the remote discerned the code needed to deactivate any lingering security measures. That was one down. The second one was a little trickier. Here he needed the code that not only cut off the machine's autopilot - preventing it from operating with someone present - as well as eliminating the program geared toward the Turps and Tints. Incidentally, there was no genius behind that one. The machine was just set for anything that wasn't toon, human, or bound to a mortal coil. Done and dead. The last one was just a glorified power code. Once Oswald broke that code, the tar pump hissed to a grinding halt. The machine was down, and with a little extra zap from Oswald it wouldn't ever be used again. The Guardians felt the machine die down, taking their chance to escape back into their home.

"The Guardian siphon is caput!" Gus cheered. Things are finally looking up for them. "But we mustn't celebrate too soon. This might not be the only one." If experience has taught him anything, it's that engineers never have just one of a device. Rule number one of mechanics. Always have a spare.

"Hey! Check that out!" Mickey blurted. A thinner curtain that was block a tunnel parted ways, halting into innocuous drips. "Stopping that machine caused a passageway to open up."

"Let's see where it leads." Oswald proposed, leading the charge this time. He was the first to round a turn, and then was knocked onto his butt. That passage led them right into the clutches of two irritating car Blotworx. "Grr! We don't have time for this! Cecelia!"

"I'm all over it!" Cecelia got behind Oswald. She transferred energy into Oswald's remote. He keyed it up to 50% power and fired. The cars were hit right in their grills, exploding into pieces, and turning the Spatters inside into mush. Mickey dumped thinner on them just to be cautious. "That's that."

"I have found our way out." Gus announced. "But we have to get rid of this thinner curtain first." If they weren't so dangerous, thinner curtains would be a nice addition to any home apparel.

"Hang on! I think I saw something before!" Mickey stated. There are large bars near where they entered. Mickey went over to them and peered inside. "Yep! Found it!" He exclaimed. "On the other side here, I see a lever and gear. If we activate them, something might happen."

"Nice catch, Mick!" Oswald praised. He nodded to Cecelia. She touched her hands to the wall beneath the bars. A thin, transparent sheet of jello spread to each bar, turning them intangible. Mickey and Oswald jumped through. One pulled the Mickey shaped lever, opening a hatch to the gear, and the other gave the gear a swift kick.

Gus watched for results, and was glad to see the next thinner curtain recede. "Hazah! The way is open!" He announced. The boy jumped back into the tunnel, and with Cecelia they chased Gus down into the next area of Autotopia. Right as they entered, Gus really regretted how often he is right. "Look there! Another Guardian siphon!" And it was as big and ugly as the last one. It's barrier was a large pond of thinner, and a few Dropwings were floating around. Its security measures were already activated. Looks like it even sucked up the Guardians that just escaped. "Second verse same as the first, Chaps! With some extra background characters!" The trio split off with Gus. Mickey took care of the Dropwings, dousing them with thinner and letting them join the muck guarding the Guardian Siphon. Instead of using magic, Gus instructed Oswald and Cecelia to dag some old car parts lying around to cover the vents. From here on in, they need to conserve their energy. What lies ahead will demand that they all be in top form. All great runners trip at the finish line when they exert themselves too early to gain the advantage. Covering the vents cause pressure build up to kill the security system. Once Mickey was certain the Dropwings were done, he went over to the siphon and was dismayed there weren't any accessports to be seen .Then he noticed the pressure plates. He had no other ideas, so he stepped on one. Lo and behold, it revealed an accessport. Once Oswald and Cecelia made it over, she stepped on the second pressure plate and exposed another port, and he got to work on the ports. The Siphon was taken out by a small explosion, causing the next thinner curtain to their next destination to dry up.

Cecelia didn't mention it earlier, but they were being led away from the projector that brought her and Ortensia into Autotopia. The boys had noticed this too. Autotopia was so big, they didn't want to lose their only way out. They would need to worry about that later. Another Guardian siphon awaited them in this new area. "One moment." Gus got a bird's eye view to gain insight to their progress. He squinted hard to see the last two they destroyed, and was happy to report that the one they see is the final one. "This appears to be our final hurdle. Let's not tally." Hopefully once they destroy it, all the Guardians will be returned and the earthquakes will subside. They just need to sabotage the security they were good to go.

"Let's go!" Mickey jumped in. A shrill metal to pavement screeching pierced his ears. Mickey turned to see what caused it, and then was snatched up in the vice like grip of a an Ape Blotworx with a drill for legs.

"MICKEY!" Oswald and Cecelia cried. The Blotworx smashed Mickey against a tree. The trunk was cracking at his back, his own bone on the verge of cracking themselves. "I'll help Mickey! You two destroy the siphon!" Cecelia ordered. Oswald and Gus left it to her and split off to cover the vents. Cecelia balled her fingers into fists, becoming scared as Mickey was starting to lose consciousness...and that tree about to snap after he did. The Drill Ape had sparks furiously spitting from that drill. Its unrelenting speed only increased its strength, reducing Mickey's bones to a chewable paste. "Not this time!" Cecelia planted her hands to the pavement. "Here's a tailspin turnabout!" A shockwave breezed the surface of the pavement, darting straight to the drill of the ape. The pavement wiggle like jello, melting into a thick vat. The ape's weight sank into into the vat. It's drill straining to a dead halt. The ape looked down, confused by what had stopped it. Then it was sent into a whirlwind of a spin, nuts and bolts flying off of it. Mickey dropped to hus butt, choking as he regained his breath. He quickly shook off his near crushing defeat and started soaking the Blotworx with thinner. By the time it was done spinning, the Blotworx was disoriented from the thinner and spin. Cecelia climbed up to its head, slipping a glowing marble she rolled between her fingers inside a slot in its collar. Cecelia took Mickey by the hand, dragging him for cover behind a ledge. Lights pierced the Blotworx, and then it was sucked into itself, crushed to a size no bigger than a pea. Mickey shuddered at such a fate. Cecelia fanned her hands, assuring him not to worry. Cecelia would never use that one on a person.

By the time Mickey and Cecelia were all done with their friend, Gus and Oswald already had the last siphon off line. This explosion was a little more powerful than the last one, jostling a wall of boulders loose. The last of the Guardians were free. They escaped the machine and dove back into Wasteland, sewing the tears that have marred their home to tatters. Already, Mickey, Oswald, Cecelia, and Gus felt the impact the Guardians'' return had on Wasteland. Until now, Wasteland felt dingy, lifeless, dying. As if there was a constant haze of a curtain draped over it. The Guardians tore through that curtain, rejuvenating the land with new vigor. Their emaciated home that they've let suffer for too long was regaining its strength, coming back to life better than ever. And that would mean the aftershocks will have finally been stopped as well. A few Turps and Tints came from the ground, flying around Mickey and the gang. Their glittering trails tickled a little as they ghost over their bodies. They pressed their round bodies to their cheeks. The four blushed at what they assumed was a thanks. There was no need. Mickey and crew would do it all over again. Now they just needed to get back to the projector, somehow, and go rescue Ortensia...and possibly Jamface.

To really show their appreciation, The Guardians guided the group's attention to where the boulders fell. There was an old passageway hiding behind there. By the looks of it, someone wanted to make sure no one found it. They followed the Guardians inside, coming right back to where they entered Autotopia. The four were stopped in utter awe. With the destruction of the siphons, the Guardians transformed the thinner pool in a beautiful azure paint pool. Spouts of paint rose into steps up the first machine. Panel extended flat from the sides, running up in a spiral platform up to the top where a door opened. From there, Mickey and the others saw a projector that had been tucked away. The Guardians gave the heroes one last peck, then they joined the others to get started on fixing what their absence has caused. Gus and Oswald picked up Mickey and Cecelia and flew to the top. The projector astonished them. _The Wonderful World of Evil_ is what it said. This wasn't like the one Cecelia came out of. She isn't even sure if it would lead back to the Attic. But the Guardians brought them there, so she had faith. The four held hands and jumped in, ready for whatever came their way.

The Mad Doctor, who watched his siphons be destroyed from on high in his flying dome, sneered hatefully. "And so we reach climax of this little tale." He rumbled. And as he flew off into the distance, preparing to meet his guests, he savored the triumph that would drape to his shoulders like a cape. Oswald, Mickey, Gus, Cecelia - all of the heroes who stand in his way, will soon fall before his might.

 **xxx**

This projector was… very different from the one Ortensia and Cecelia came through. For one thing, a canoe to take her and the boys on a ride through this disturbing plane didn't appear for Ortensia and Cecelia. The obstacles roving above suddenly came to life, and there was music in the air. Maybe it was because they entered in from the back way? Who knows. What is clear though is that the whole projector trip had to be tracked by this canoe. The floor Ortensia and Cecelia journeyed across was just gone. Likely sank beneath the thinner river. What was the spookiest of all with this canoe is that it had four seats. One for each of them. Like it was expecting these four to be here. Coincidence? If they start believing that after everything that has happened, they all need to go home and go to bed.

Gus poked at the canoe, expecting it to blow up in their faces. Nothing of the sort happened. Mickey threw in a potato sack to fool it into thinking a live body was in there. Maybe it would sink, or flip upside down, or a monster would emerge and swallow it. Still nothing. Mickey pulled the sack out, at a loss of whatever else this could be besides a canoe ride to their destination. And the music being in a repeat was wearing on their nerves. So either they get in or suffer the melancholic, eerie chorus. Oswald offered to go in first. He is the leader, and he would hate for his friends to be the guinea pigs. He stepped ever so lightly, sat down very carefully, then stiffly settled in his seat. He cringed tightly, scrunching his ears up. He poked an eye open, scanning for any knives or trap doors. He hummed in minor disappointment. This might be the smoothest part of the trip. Mickey, Cecelia, and Gus filed in behind him, keeping their hands suspended in case they need to escape.

Just then the music changed tempos. Their heads snapped up, wondering what the heck they did. Seat belts strapped tightly across their laps and security bars unfolded, securing them in their seats. "Hey!" Oswald yelled.

Cecelia growled animally, pushing up on her bar. It wasn't budging. "We're stuck!" She tried to zap it with a spell. It just rebound and shocked her back.

Mickey poured paint and thinner on the bar and seatbelt. Not even a scratch. "Come on! Come on!" He snarled, hammering at them.

"We've been duped!" Gus howled. They've just signed their death warrants. The Mad Doctor has them. It was all over.

Then a neon sign came down with a warning. Oswald ogled it strangely, reading it like it was in another language. " _Good evening ladies and gentlemen to the Wonderful World of Evil...the ride._ " Gus and Cecelia crossed their arms and humph'd absolutely insulted. He's not even trying to hide it now. " _Please keep your hands, paws, tails, and ears inside the canoe at all times._ " Oswald rolled up his ears, and Mickey rolled up his and tucked his tail in. Cecelia rolled her eyes and put her tail away too. " _Please no flash photography._ " Mickey bashfully put his camera aside. " _And finally, please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Thank you and enjoy the ride._ " The neon sign came with a lever. It was pulled. The canoe jerked being freed from its clamps. The four braces themselves as it moved. Because, just their luck, there was a drop on entry. It wasn't bad, but coming to a splashdown where the water is a thinner notorious for devouring flesh, Oswald and Company were checking themselves like mad for any thinner drops. They were good. And against their will, they were on a canoe ride through this spooky place...with very eerie music to accompany them.

" _ **Welcome, boys and girls,"**_ Their skin crawled at the Mad Doctor's voice singing over the P.A System. Figures he'd fit a song in here somewhere. _**"To the Wonderful World of Evil."**_ Just then the lights cut out, casting the four heroes in pitch black darkness. _**"Today, I have a tragic tale for youuuu…"**_ A sole stagelight blinded them, scrolling the thinner river and then splitting off to the sides. _**"You know I fell into the Gulch!"**_ A theatre drop scene unfurled on the left, depicting the Mad Doctor's fall into Disney Gulch, and his Attack Dome blowing up, _ **"Then planned to take revenge on WASTELAND!"**_ To the right was the Mad Doctor in another scene, swearing his revenge to the heaven. Thunder and lightning effects added a little drama. _**"YES, TAKE REVENGE!"**_ Oswald and the others nearly jumped out of their seats at the huge head cutout of the Mad Doctor popping out of nowhere. His pupils were drawn as skull and cross bones. _**"That's what I planned to dooo…"**_ The four sank really low as they passed under it, feeling their souls leave their body at that ugly mug. Once past it, they were able to catch breaths of relief. Soon they were entering a tunnel.

"He was hiding in the Gulch this whole time?" Cecelia asked what she and Mickey were thinking.

"It would explain how he knew about it before we did." Gus surmised. "And he's been plotting his revenge upon us this whole time!" He smashed a fist into his palm. "I'd wager he was hiding their previously as well!" He means when they met Cecelia last year. No one was able to track the Mad Doctor down until he resurfaced with that Terror Box of his. Oswald tensed sickly, gripping at his arm.

"But…if he's been hiding there, planning his revenge..." Mickey trailed off, trying to be mindful of Oswald's feelings, "How did he plan to do it without The Blot helping him?"

"I think we're about to find out." Oswald grumbled with a note of revulsion edging in his voice. He pointed ahead to the tunnel ending. The song was changing verses.

A series of lights brought to life a larger than life version of a laboratory diorama. Silhouettes of massive gears powering cleverly hidden piping in the background. Clamps up above were carrying the hulls of cars, meanwhile random machine parts were running down the left handed assembly line, while caged Spatters were being sent down the other. " _ **I needed...an...army,"**_ The cars hulls, machine parts, and Spatters disappeared inside a machine, " _ **So I created BLOTWORX!"**_ The four gasped in horror as the cano reached the otherside of the machine, finding the monsters they've been battling being born. _ **"BLOTWORX! Part Beetleworx,"**_ Cardboard cutouts of a spider Beetleworx popped up from a slot, _ **"Part Spatter!"**_ The famed Spatter cutout appeared, along with a Blotworx. Next was triumphant version of the Mad Doctor. _ **"But they were unpredictable,"**_ The cutouts spun rapidly, transforming the the creations into mindless monsters, and leaving the Doctor cutout to be dismayed, " _ **And had to be cast out!"**_ Trap doors swallowed the failed creations. _**"I had to start again with that entire matter."**_ And the diorama ended with him back to the drawing board, piles of trashed concepts piling up around him.

As they entered into another tunnel, Cecelia, Mickey, and Oswald swallowed remorseful lumps, fretfully turning their attention to a slouching Oswald. If they were able to see his face, they knew for a fact he was wearing a look of shock, horror, hurt, and self-loathing. While...at the same time...he was holding out hope that maybe...just maybe...this ride was a misunderstanding. That the Mad Doctor that made all of this wasn't the same man that came to him seeking his helping. That has to be it...right? Or...is he sounding like Cecelia when she wanted to believe with all her heart and soul about Prescott's innocence? Deluding himself from the truth that is staring him in the face? Mickey reached a hand to console him. Oswald sensed his concern, but shrugged away. Mickey was a little hurt he moved away. Though he understood why. He doesn't think he'd want to be consoled with false hopes, and pretty words if someone he trusted stabbed him in the back after being given the benefit of the doubt. Cecelia and Gus sighed heavily, sharing saddened expressions with each other. While they might see the truth, they were praying for Oswald's sake that this diorama was very out of date.

Exiting the tunnel into the next diorama only succeeded in curdling their stomachs. What more can be added to the Mad Doctor's twisted scheme? What else does he intend to brag about and completely demolish Oswald's already crumbling spirit. When all the lights came on at once, the four hissed in agony. They were blinded for a good few seconds before seeing an all brick room surrounding them. On the left side was a black board covered the entire wall. A crudely drawn math equation involving the Spatters, the car parts, and other machine parts to build his Blotworx Monsters was drawn. Then there was this wall of steam that erupted between the river and blackboard. A leviathan sized marionette cutout of the Mad Doctor emerged. Half of him was skin while the rest was metal. His prosthetics coming undone at the seams with rampant puffs of steam huffing from breaks, and wires barely keeping the joints together. The man was quite literally falling apart.

" _ **My toon parts were interfering with my animatronics!"**_ Along the creases where the Toon and Metal met were searing red lines that sparked rampantly, intensifying the clash for dominance over this sad malcontent of a scientist. _ **"That's bad right from the start!"**_ An understatement to say the least. _ **"I needed a way to become a toon again because I was falling apart!"**_ Cecelia and Mickey screamed when his jaw, eyebrow, and one hand just dropped off. _**"After the break, there's lots of fun in store."**_ The canoe bumped to a stop at its destination, jerking the four out of their daze. _ **We'll talk about my plans to become a toon again and more,"**_ The seatbelts and bars released them, and one by one the four exited the canoe. _ **"On 'THE MAD...DOCTOR'S...WONDERFUL WORLD...OF EVIL!"**_ The song ended with his traditional howl of evil laughter. Only he can sound proud that he's just admitted to being a total fraud.

"I KNEW these songs were proof of his villainy!" Cecelia declared. She pouted like an impudent child. "Villains always get cool songs!"

"YOU THOUGHT THAT SONG WAS COOL?!" Gus, Mickey, and Oswald screeched with disbelief.

"Never mind that! Let's hurry!" She dove into the projector. The boys lingered one more second, processing how she could think those songs were cool, then jumped in after her. The projector world shut down entirely, going black for what would be an indefinite sleep.

 **xxx**

Cecelia flipped out of the projector, shocked to see that this way had brought her right back to the place in the attic she and Ortensia entered from. "See! I told ya!" Cecelia introduced them to The Mad Doctor's old attic in its revamped state. Mickey and Oswald's heads swayed side to side, utter disbelief oozing from their faces. They can't believe someone actually came up here and fixed the place. No one would ever be able to tell that it was burned to a crisp. They assumed it wasn't the Doc. He moved his new lab to the gulch, AND this place didn't have a ridiculous amount of machines lying around. It's going to bug them not knowing who fixed up the place, but it can wait.

"My word…" Gus gasped in total disbelief. He had doubts all the way through Autotopia and the projector. Even now, looking at it, he still can hardly fathom how this is possible. "The Mad Doctor's old attic good as new." Save for the missing roof. "But why is it connected to Autotopia?" A million dollar question along with why Autotopia was connected with Ventureland. In the midst of his pondering, Gus looked up and cried out in terror. "My goodness! It's Jamface!"

"Jamface?!" Cecelia repeated his name with shocked delight. Then her face sank seeing him stuck inside one of the orbs hanging from the ceiling. "JAMFACE!" She was both relieved and frightened to see him in the snowglobe. He wasn't abducted like Ortensia, and he wasn't in immediate danger either.

"He's trapped in there!" Gus fretted.

Jamface heard them, feeling his freedom at hand. "My friends! Oh it is so good to see you!" He moaned with relief. He thought he was going to be stuck up there forever.

"Jamface, what happened?!" Cecelia cried. "How did you get up there?!"

"A Beetleworx snuck up behind me and stuffed me in this snowglobe!" Oswald just wants to bash his head in. The Beetleworx attacked him? The Mad Doctor's toys? He can't take much more of this. "My friends, we must work fast! Or I am doomed!" This put a sense of urgency back into Oswald. "The control mechanisms for this cage are tied to those Beetleworx replicators!" Right as he said that, the replicators came online.

"Alright then!" Oswald cracked his knuckles. "Let's take out the replicators the old fashioned way!"

"NO-NO! You cannot just break them!" Jamface adamantly protested. "Destroying the replicators could damage the mechanisms beyond all repair!"

"Leaving him trapped in there!" Mickey added.

"Precisely! There must be another way to shut them down" Jamface slid in a slump against the glass walls.

"There is! Look there!" Gus flew up to the metal walkways perusing the upper walls. "There seem to be access ports connected to the snowglobes. If we activate them, we can rescue Jamface!"

"I'm all over it!" Oswald saluted. He flew up to the walkway, beginning his work on the first access port.

"That leaves us with clean up duty." Cecelia lifted a fist. They won't get anywhere fast with these machines always on their heels.

"Let's do a better job this time." Mickey bumped her fist. He and Cecelia ran down the tracks, leaping to the attic floor.

The Spider and Pirate beetleworx stopped in mid-march, heads snapping to who trespassed on their turf. Mickey twirled his thinner oozing brush challengingly, and Cecelia ignited her fists in a blue misty flame with a strike of her wrists. The two smirked brazenly, mockingly motioning their hands for the beetleworx to come at them. _Make my day_ as it were. The pirates and spiders snarled at their bold posturing. The spiders brought their legs together, their bodies spinning like tops with their buzzsaw and knives flailing. Their mandibles chomped hungrily, thinner oozing to the wood, eating right through it. Went right through Sam as well. Missed his Teddy, thank goodness. The pirates drew second sets of swords, sprouting four arms on their foot and peg leg hobble toward them. The swords were spun so fast they looked like razor edged discs. Mickey and Cecelia came back to back. The brush's bristles loaded with thinner, the mist around the glove wriggled agitated. Mickey and Cecelia touched glove and brush together. Thinner mixed with the misty flame, creating a atom of thinner and fire that hover between the brush and glove. The two let the first wave of Spiders and Pirates come close. Mickey and Cecelia swung their arms back and let the atom roll like a bowling ball. Two spiders and three pirates lined up like bowling pins watched dumbly as the ball came right at them. Blind lights broke from the shell, and an dome of fire and thinner blew the beetleworx to ashen scraps. Mickey and Cecelia felt rather proud of their combined attacked. Honestly, they didn't even know they could do something like that. Handy little trick. They used it again on what remained of the Spider and Pirates, wanting to see for themselves if the second time has the same charm. Oh it did not disappoint. These beetleworx was swallowed in the same explosion as their friends, leaving them as spasming bits of charred metal across the attack. Mickey and Cecelia bumped forearms, loving their synergy. Their celebration was short lived with double the number of beetleworx were bred from the three replicators around the attic. These ones must have been watching from their confinement because they were spreading themselves thin to avoid a bowling catastrophe. Cecelia and Mickey could stick with their plan and keep going at them with Thinner Bombs, but there was no guarantee they would work. And besides, the attic floor was starting to take some serious damage. If they aren't careful, they'll bring it crashing down. And then they'd really be in for it. Leona will personally turn them into ghosts and torment them for all eternity. The pair split off in opposite directions. The pirates went for Cecelia, leaving Mickey with the bugs.

 **xxx**

"Ooh…" Jamface was writhing under the murderous suspense. The battle below had taken such a disastrous turn after going so well. Mickey and Cecelia were holding their own, but the replicators will only spit out more beetleworx than they can keep up with. "You must hurry, Oswald! I fear Mickey and Cecelia are in deep trouble!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Oswald growled. This access port was being unusually stubborn. His remote has been able to cut through any walls technology has been throwing his way. If there was an access port, or a panel for him to link with, Oswald would able to take full control of it and get machines to do his bidding. That's how it's supposed to work. This access port had a mind of its own. Every wall Oswald tore down came with two more to replace it. Like there was a replicator inside the port. "Wait...a replicator in the port...that's it." Gus made many upgrades to Oswald's remote. Its main function being that it can gain control over access ports by using a special coding software that adapts and learns. It can do with wirelessly AND while connected with a ground line. It's a long shot, but it just might work. Oswald manually hooked his remote up with the access port via a cable in a slot underneath it. The screen on the port changed from random coding to an operations list. Oswald went down the list, selecting every option so that the remote would access the functions and commit them to digital memory. Eventually he found the option for _security settings_ and got the codes that would allow him to disable the replicating firewalls. "Okay! Let's try this again!" Oswald disconnected with from the port, then proceeded to invade the port wirelessly. All three lights turned on the port, and the first replicator was down for the count. And so was Jamface's cage. The snowglobe dropped a good few feet.

"Well done, Oswald! Keep it up!" Jamface praised. Of course that was code for Oswald to pick up the pace. The odds have yet to be in Mickey and Cecelia's favor.

 **xxx**

The Spiders had Mickey trapped, dancing around him in a circle that would constrict to where the knives and buzzsaws were breaths away from slicing his skin, and then widen to give him a false sense of relief. They taunted him with purposefully missed glancing blows, coaxing him too close to another Spider where he was attacked again. He was managed to dodge their shallow prods, but felt himself getting tired. One broke from the ranks just to beam right past him, just tapping him upside the head to toy with him. Another waited until he looked at it and jerked itself in, frightening him back, then moved back out. He was getting tired of this. He was becoming a toy for them. He staggered as he debated which one to spray first. He knew that the second he launched an attack, one of the spiders would counter and come at him from another side. He'd sneak his way to an opening in their defense. A spider would intercept him, darting like a bolt of lightning and shoving him back into the middle. Without Oswald there to shock the weak point on the spiders, Mickey was left against staggering odds without a real means of dealing damage. Melting the paint off six spiders would mean nothing if they weren't given a powerful enough shock to flip them belly up so he can deliver the final pounce. His lungs were on fire trying to just keep up with these guys. His heart hammering on all four cylinders. He wasn't deterred. No, not at all. He was going to get out of this. A protruding piece of wood had other plans. Mickey lost his footing for a moment, dropping to one knee. A spider from behind him took this opportunity and rushed him. Mickey furrowed his brow. He let the spider get in close then rolled out of the way. He then spun on his heels, sprinting out of the narrow circle and running for higher ground. He skipped up a couple of crates, leaping for the edge of the tallest one. He pulled himself up by the arms, his feet slipping each time he tried to dig them into the wood. The Spider came underneath him, slashing at the soles of his yellow shoes. One almost got his tail. Mickey took a deep breath and wrenched himself upward, hooking his elbows to the crate. He pushed his full foot to the crate, inching himself on like a worm, and managed to get up there. He panted hard, wiping sweat from his brow in relief. He gulped hard hearing the buzzsaws eat into the crate. It was then he put it together that he was on a wooden crate. Not the best option. But it gave him a second to think. He has an attic full of train parts to play with. Time for him to get creative. Two of the spiders were on a straight away track. A mining car was hooked up to a launcher. All it needed was a quick release. Mickey leapt from the crate just as the spiders cut it down to size. He got inside the mining car, smirking as he watched those two spiders head his way right on the track. Mickey crossed his fingers that this would work. He swatted the lever, releasing the car, and ducked inside in the fetal position. The car took off like a slingshot, crashing through the two spiders. Their part fell everywhere. The mining car wasn't fixed to where it could stop on a dime. It ended up running right off its track, heading for the thinner pool. Mickey jumped to the car's edges and abandoned ship. The mining car flew into the thinner pool, and sank below the surface. Never to be seen again. Mickey held a hand to his heart, bowing his head. The spiders paid their respects as well, then it was back to the fight. Mickey had four spiders left on his tail. They were blocking him from the other train sets. He looked up for inspiration. And it was there. A piece of track suspended on a toon rope. Two of the spider were right underneath it. Mickey sprayed his thinner, cutting through the rope, and two of the spiders were down for the count. He jumped across the fallen track, racing for the rest of the train set. The spiders where right behind him. A set of tracks had two trains on them, a lone button on a pedestal that would activate them, just begging for a crash. The spiders were gaining on Mickey. He braved the final stretch with a jump. He tripped short of the pedestal, scrambling back to his feet frantically. The spiders were nearly on the track. Mickey prayed this would work and slammed a fist to the button. The trains were released. The moment the spiders set foot on the tracks, BAM! The trains collided head on, smashing the spiders to bits, and coming out relatively unscathed. Mickey exhaled with relief, sliding to his butt. He can feel the fresh patches of close shaves up and down his fur. He's pretty sure there's a bald spot somewhere. He's getting a chill.

A stroke of fortune was going around. By the time Mickey was done, Oswald already had the second replicator deactivated, and Jamface was another foot close to the ground. Just one more, and they were all homefree.

Cecelia was running out of steam fast with her pirate friends. Neither of them would let her breathe long enough to launch a counterattack. Shields up on her forearms, she deflected the barrage of sword swipes, strikes, and slashes tearing for her. The strikes came with such a crushing strength that it made her arms feel like they would shatter the longer she continued to block them. Her muscle were certainly going numb from the impacts. Vibrating pain shooting up the entirety of the arms right into her head. The pirates had her running herself ragged, leading her endlessly in a dance to the death across the attic. She be led one way, be roughly bumped by one of their metal guts in another direction, only to narrowly evade a slash that had her going some other way. The abrupt turns and twists were making her dizzy. And trying to keep up with four swords wasn't helping. But she refused to falter here. She's been getting creative with her spellcasting thus far, she can do it again. She just needs the right ones to stick it to beetleworx she can't get close enough to to override their circuits. That's when it came to her. She smiled wickedly. Cecelia dropped to her knees to better brace herself against their immense strength. Two of the pirates came at her from both sides, axing all four swords down. She opened a portal right as the sword were upon her and fell through. The pirates cut each others to ribbons. The four remaining pirates huddled around the portal, curious of what sort of sorcery this was. Cecelia leapt from another portal behind them. She tossed the shields like frisbees. They each hit a pirate, splattering to their backs and arms in a thick adhesive. The pirates roared animally. They arched their arms to begin another assault on the tricky lass, but found the gunk sinking into their joints and tangling up their arms made them as rusty as salted wheels. Cecelia crossed one foot behind the other. She dipped into a curtsy, sweeping her arms up high. She summoned the swords of the destroyed pirates to her side. She tossed her hands forward, letting the swords be free. They impaled the pirates in the head and chest, sending them to join their brethren in a oily blue. Cecelia quick ushered two more shields, ready to gum up the last two pirates. She sent them flying, only to gape in dismay as they dodged her attack. The beetleworx do learn from past mistakes, in spite of always proving they're slower Hook when it comes to realizing they're outmatched. The pirate began their onslaught again, not giving Cecelia enough time to test whether or not she can try the sword trick again. She dodged the hail storm of swords by the skin of her teeth, skipping just out of reach of their razor sharp blades. As they drew closer she conjured her shields, deflecting the blows. She mostly kept them crossed in front of her, wincing at how close to cutting through to her skin the swords were coming. Then dread flooded her stomach as she felt a wall at her back. She had nowhere left to run. The pirates drew their swords to the sides and above their heads, leaving no room for Cecelia to escape them. She scoffed at them, pressing her back to the wall. She glared them down definitely, not about the leave this mortal coil without putting up a fight ot the bitter end. The pirates thrust their swords. Cecelia smirked impishly. A portal opened up right in front of her. The pirates fell halfway in, able to save themselves from entering the void. Cecelia leapt over and behind them and gave them a push. The pirates fell inside. She closed it up, then reopened it over the thinner pool. The pirates fell in, and they melted into nothing. Just like the mine car before them.

Gus, Cecelia, and Mickey met in the middle of the attic. Mickey and Cecelia collapsed against each other's backs, falling to the floor. Gus managed to get a pillow under them. Those two earned a good rest. It was a right mess, but worth it to have cleared the evil machines away. Leona can't be too mad at them for this...right? Hopefully they won't have to find out. Oswald finally got the last access port to cooperate. The last replicator was down for the count. "And that takes care of that!" Oswald boasted, flying to his friends in the middle of the room.

Jamface's snow globe cage finally dropped, shattering as it hit the ground. Jamface shielded himself from any of the shards, then flew out into the fresh, albeit musty, air of freedom. "HA-HA! You did it Mes Ami! I am free!" He praised them.

"Jamface!" Cecelia attacked him with a hug, sniveling dramatically while squeezing him. "I'm so happy you're okay! You weren't hurt, were you?" She moved her hands up and down his body, wincing when she found the lump from where the Beetleworx hit him. Guess asking him if he's hurt was a bit too obvious.

"Just my pride. But I am well." He reassured her, appreciating the concern. "How are you doing? When I was attacked I feared the worst for you and Ms. Ortensia." He paused noticing that she wasn't with them. "Where is Ms. Ortensia?"

"You mean you haven't seen her?" Jamface cautiously shook his head. He didn't like where this was going. "Ortensia and I were attacked too. We were ambushed by Ghoul Blots and she was taken."

"ZUT ALORS! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. But did you see Ortensia?!"

"Sadly, no. I was unconscious until a short while ago." He rubbed the sore spot where he was hit. "But I did notice some footprints near the vault over there. Fresh footprints." He emphasised. Cecelia and the boys' eyes lit up. They followed Jamface to the door, finding the footprints he spoke of leading right to the vault door. "They were not there before I was attacked. Whoever took Ortensia took her behind this door. Possible Horace and Clarabelle too."

"We need to get inside that vault." Oswald declared.

"Lucky for you, I already cracked it before I was cracked." Jamface boasted. He just gave the hinges a few taps and then snapped his fingers. "Viola! The way is open!" He flamboyantly presented the inside of the vault. The four stretched their necks, meandering inside before the door could fully open. Not much was to speak of inside. Figurine knick-knacks of iconic characters sitting on a shelf, a prototype to the Terror Box from last year - that got some shudders - and another snowglobe that actually had a terrain in it. Cecelia recognized it. It was Bald Mountain. Even had a figure of Chernabog inside. Nice guy when he isn't summoning the souls of the undead, or when he's beating Yensid at cards. Demon has a meaner poker face than Yensid. It was all a little anticlimactic, to be honest. Mickey and Cecelia half expected to see more of The Mad Doctor's old toys, mementoes of The Blot, and or some blueprints to a giant death machine. Instead it was just old junk. Like someone cleared everything out...and replaced it with the costumes and sets outside. That's when eyes gaped at the projector hiding in the corner...and a strange, thick storybook sitting on a table.

Mickey, Jamface, and Oswald investigated the book. It was the newest thing in the vault. In mint condition too. The way it was just sitting there, it's like someone wanted them to find it. Meanwhile. Cecelia and Gus studied the projector. They've found projectors in pretty wild places. But to hide one inside the Mad Doctor's old vault. That's genius, really, when one thinks about it. "Where do you suppose it leads?" Cecelia inquired.

"Let me see…" Gus went behind the projector, inspecting the settings dial. _Mean Street Masher The ride_ occupied the label. "Very interesting." He hummed. Cecelia's ears perked up. _Very interesting_ is a 50-50 way of Gus saying interesting-good or interesting-bad. Considering this last stretch, she's going to go with Bad. "This projector is set to the Mad Doctor's new attraction on Mean Street."

"Which one?" Cecelia added baffled. The place is split in two.

"I can't be sure…" Gus checked the computer right next to it. Clearly it was powering the projector, adding extra power to home in on its destination. Gus read the schematics as best as he could. They weren't making much sense. He titled his head to one side, then the to next, flipped his head upside down, and had to ask Cecelia for help in putting it right side up. He's sure he isn't reading them wrong, at the same time he thinks he might be. "It looks like the attraction is built somewhere in between the Streets."

"How did he manage that?!" Cecelia gasped.

"He's had a lot of time on his hands." Was all Gus could say to explain it properly. It satisfied Cecelia. While she and the boys were running around being distracted, The Doc's been working behind the scenes and behind the cover of all his new fans. Cecelia is going to love bringing it all crashing down on his head.

"This is the part where I leave the rest to you lot." Jamface stated. He isn't being cowardly, just sensible. While he's been a boon thus far, whatever lies beyond that projector will be beyond his capabilities. "I would tread lightly, Mon Ami. I fear we are coming to the end." And it is usually at the end where the heroes are pit to the ultimate test. "Come back to us."

"We will, Jamface." Mickey promised him. Oswald, Gus, and Cecelia snickered at him in playful insult. As if they'll let this stop them. This is the final hurdle. They aren't going to trip now.

Jamface nodded, holding him to that. He's lost good friends already. He can't bear to lose anymore. He turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. "And...Cecelia…" She arched a brow at him. He smiled to her. "No matter what, know that...you are not responsible. You bring beauty with your magic."

Cecelia was taken aback by his words. Earlier, she had told Gus not to kick himself for what became of Horace and Clarabelle. That she was already subjecting herself to the blame game. Jamface, the clever gremlin that he is, attributed that blame to Prescott abusing what she taught him. And even though Cecelia said she stopped blaming herself, deep down she was still kicking her hide. Hearing Jamface say it's not her fault...really helped. She walked over to him, hands folded behind her back. She smiled up at him with red cheeks and said, "I won't." Then she hugged him. "Thanks, Jamface."

"Of course." Jamface gave her ears a little scratch, then he took his leave. Cecelia went back to the boys, all wondering what the book was about.

There was a ticking coming from the book, drawing the ever curious group closer. Normally when something is it's recommended that one should start running in the opposite direction. Instead, here they are, getting closer to a ticking book. Oswald was reaching to open it. " _ **Testing, testing!"**_ The rabbit jumped into Cecelia's arms who had hairs scared right off her tail. Gus and Mickey got closer. _**"Dear diary, it's the Mad Doctor."**_ The Mad Doc's prerecorded tune prompted the book to open to a flip up of his smiling face. And then, " _ **Wonderfully evil me!"**_ He tittered as the flip up flipped over to his true evil facade. The page turned to the Gag Factory. A flip up of Prescott made Cecelia's heart stop, " _ **I fooled Prescott into turning on his friends,"**_ The grouchy flip up turned around, glaring vengefully to himself as he plotted against the happy-go-lucky props of Cecelia and the boys, " _ **While he built me my TV. (hee!)"**_ Prescott's part was flipped over to a giant TV. Cecelia was overcome with shock. Anger boiled her blood. The HE Prescott spoke of...really was The 's the reason...he's the CAUSE...BEHIND...ALL OF THIS! _**"Now I broadcast my show to the Cartoon World."**_ The Mad Doctor appeared in the TV, looking relaxed with a cup of coffee beside him. _**"Will they forget me? NEVER!"**_ His popularity spiked on a graph between Toons to Heart ratios. _**"Oh, yes, I'll be remembered!"**_ The next page had toons fawning over him while he was on a cloud, praising him like some sort of god. " _ **And I can leave Wasteland FOREVER!"**_ All of Wasteland was on the next page, and the Mad Doctor, on his cloud, flew through a breach in the sky. That's when it down on them. The Doc was trying to get a heart! _**"I know the guardians can make me a toon again!"**_ The book was taking turns for the worse. Autotopia housed his evil machine robbing Wasteland of the Guardians, shadowing his animatronic form with his toon form. " _ **I played Mickey, Cecelia,and Oswald for FOOLS!"**_ Their puppets were chained by their wrists, hanging in failure before opera cloud masks. The trio balled their fists, growling under their breath. _ **"But even I didn't know that the earthquakes would strike,"**_ A toon was running from a crack that was easily identified as the one that tore Mean Street in half, _ **"When they sucked up the guardian pools."**_ It was a small victory to have been right. The Guardians' abduction is the source of the quake. _ **"And that wasn't even a part of my plan."**_ A childishly drawn blueprint unrolled, depicting in parts this plan he's very proud of. _ **"A plan that's evil as can be."**_ More evil than causing earthquakes, turning friends on one another, and fooling the fragile hearts - figurative hearts - of everyone in Wasteland? A clock hanging to an X'd off calendar was ticking down. _**"It won't be long until Wasteland will be destroyed."**_ It struck at noon. A color scheme of an explosion robbed the color from Gus's face. _ **"And very soon, I'll be a toon…"**_ A Mad Doctor with a heart popped out of the Cuckoo's Nest. _**"Dear Diary, who's the maddest, mad doctor of all?"**_ The blackened page came with picture frames with question marks, building up suspense of the conclusion to this tale of evil. " _ **Wonderfully,"**_ Their jaws dropped, _ **"Evil…"**_ The Mad Doctor, standing before a version of Dark Beauty castle, wielded Marionette props with strings linked to Prescott, Gus, Jamface, and Gus, _ **"MEEEE...!"**_ He chuckled triumphantly, and the book closed.

A dark cloud formed over Oswald. "I can't believe the Doc lied to me." Mickey placed a hand to his shoulder, forwarding regretfully. To be honest, he really hoped that The Mad Doctor had turned over a new leaf. For Oswald's sake, that was his one wish. Guess it was too much to ask. "Guess you and I have bad judgment in friends too." He tried to make light of the issue with Cecelia. Even gave a half hearted laugh and a shrug.

"Looks like." She replied with no emotion in her tone. Cecelia didn't see any humor in this. It was especially hard to see past Oswald's disappointment. This whole time he's been taken on a ride, only to be betrayed in the end. The moral of this story - make better friends who don't have huge grudges against people. Or aren't trying to escape from a landscape that's literally sitting in...in a...WORKSHOP! "OH NO!" Cecelia's screamed scared the boys out of their skin.

"What's wrong?!" Gus cried. Mickey and Oswald were shaking in each other's arms.

"The way into the Cartoon World! That's through my grandfather's workshop!" Oswald and Gus's faces twisted in bewilderment, while Mickey's dropped in horror. He completely forgot where Wasteland was really located. Oh man. Mickey's not sure he forgave him for the last time he was there. He made a mess. If a maniacal doctor comes charging through, who knows what he'll do. "Remember, Wasteland is his creation! This whole place is sitting on his table in his workshop!" Cecelia pulled at her hair, succumbing to her worst nightmare. "THAT LUNATIC WILL DESTROY MY HOME TO GET OUT OF HERE!"

Oswald pulled her hands from her hair, making her look him in the eye. "We won't let that happen!" He swore to her. Over his dead body will that lunatic get out of Wasteland. "C'mon, guys! Let's go see if the Doctor is in!" Mickey, Gus, and Cecelia knit their brows, nodding their heads firmly. Batteries to the remote were loaded and charged, the brush was filled to the brim with paint and thinner, and every spell in the book was itching to be chanted. Game faces were on. Nerves were steeled. Minds were focused on what lied on the other side of that projector. Mickey, Cecelia, Oswald, and Gus - with the weight of Wasteland on their shoulders - leapt forth into the projector. The final battle for Wasteland was about to begin.

 **And will continue in the next chapter!**

 **Sorry, Guys. This one was too half hearted and too rushed for me to put what will be an epic fight into it. So, here's what to expect. A chapter of the fight, and the final one being an epilogue to Part 3. That's right. My Epic Mickey Series is going to be a trilogy. Warren Spector may not have gotten the chance to make his trilogy of reality, but I will make mine a reality. What to expect in the third part, you might ask? You'll have to wait and see.**


	29. The Doctor Will See You Now

**The Doctor Will See You Now**

 **Almost.**

 **xxx**

 _Mere days ago, a brave and mischievous mouse, and a curious and fearless feline were unceremoniously summoned back to the land of Forgotten Toons they had rescued once before. Plights from friends drew the mouse to wield his brush once again, and an assault on her personage commanded the feline return as well. It was horrifying to see a place they feel is a second home in such a state. To see the terror returned to everyone's faces. Their hearts lifted when they saw the mouse and feline as their salvation. Guardian Angels to lift them from their Hell...since their Guardians were disappearing. Being captured and contained for a dark and selfish purpose._

 _The mouse and feline, much like their journeys before, faced many challenges and choices. None of which were any less merciless than the last. The mouse need to be on his toes nonstop, wielding his brush in new methods in order to see this journey to the end. The feline, with much of her power gone, would have to become creative and inventive, lest she be rendered obsolete. This journey demanded a lot from the pair in terms of emotional strength. Physically they would be fine. But when the dust clears...who knows how they will be left._

 _For their friends they persevered, facing every onslaught the lingering Blotlings, the new Blotworx, and the returned Beetleworx had to throw at them. Misgivings they held against a figure who wronged them were stability in their doubts, trust in those they called friend - lover - was put to the ultimate test...and inevitably yielded horrendous results. Their Lucky friend was being shoved out of the spotlight, being forgotten by his own people because he chose to act on their behalf instead of remain in place and wait for others to solve their problems._

 _The Mouse and Feline braved new regions uncovered in the disastrous quake and after much of the thinner receded after the thinner disaster. They tore the world apart for their lucky friend to uncover the truth lurking beneath the veil of mystery thickening each time they progressed. New and terrifying monsters rose in their path, assaulting their mettle to ensure that they would yield to odds they had no business opposing. The line between who can be trusted and who cannot was blurring every second._

 _The mouse...who wanted to stand by his lucky friend...feared the trust that was being vested in a madman, but endured for the sake of the lucky one being happy to have a good friend by his side again. He wielded the brush in that pursuit. To see his friend regain what he had lost. The feline, on the other hand, remained on the offensive, refusing to believe that a madman would change so easily. And though more than three quarters of her strength was gone, with the encouragement of her friends, she continued to fight. Until...that is...her very spirit was ravaged by a betrayal she was not unfamiliar with. Soon after, the lucky one's spirit faded. Though the lucky one proved virtuous in his belief in an old friend, it did not take away the pain of knowing that him being right cost his good friend someone she loved. Which only made his world come crashing down all the more harder when he learned he was played for a fool. A regular puppet on a string. All of them...were nothing but puppets. The Traitor, the feline, and the lucky one, who stood in the teeming shadow of their mad puppet master, were the biggest fools of all._

 _Now...the truth is out there. The real culprit behind this destruction is revealed. The Guardians are free again, and Wasteland was back on track to healing once more. The strings doing the mad one's bidding were being cut one by one. His schemes coming to light!_

 _The man pulling their strings would be made to pay. One way or another, he was going to pay. _

**xxx**

Mickey, Oswald, Cecelia, and Gus emerged from the projector, landing to a bedrock paved walkway. Confusion and unease swarmed the four seeing the abyssal, dusty rose fog bank they've come to. They didn't have to question if they were in the right place. The projector was intended for the Mad Doctor's attraction on Mean Street. Turning around, they saw the massive roller coaster attraction The Mad Doctor had built. A volcano prop was on the bed of some type of altar on the other side, right up against the roller coaster. The smoke stack was shaped like Mickey's head. He wasn't flattered. However, it was discovered that the projector's controls didn't specify where on Mean Street. Just...the middle of nowhere. Pretty accurate. And it was a good bet no one from either of the Mean Streets will be able to see what happens next. Mickey and the others couldn't see anything in either direction. The perfect place to confront a madman.

The projector was taken beneath the thinner, removing the only means of escape for this death trap. Not that Mickey or the others planned on running. They aren't going anywhere until its over. The floor began to move of its own accord. Mickey looked to where the floor was taking them, ready for whatever trap they willfully leapt into. "OH NO!" Mickey gaped in dismay. He was not ready for this. Oswald and Cecelia glanced over to what bothered Mickey. Their stomachs dropped at teacup seats on the track. Ortensia, Horace and Clarabelle were tied down into the teacups, being taken inside a dark tunnel.

"ORTENSIA!" Oswald called to her.

"OSWALD! HELP!" She begged, trying in vain to escape being swallowed by the tunnel.

"Clarabelle! Horace!" Mickey howled. Horace and Clarabelle whimpered as their teacup entered first. They huddled in close, seeking comfort in each other.

"We're coming! Hold on!" Cecelia cried. Mickey furrowed his brow. He took up his brush, running with Oswald and Cecelia to begin dismantling those cups. If they work fast they might be able to get their friends in the projector and out through the attic.

Hisses of steam came from a hatch. A dome shaped automaton donning six Tiki Masks emerged. " _ **One more step,"**_ The cacophonous melody of The Mad Doctor echoed from a stage on high from the base of the ride's coaster, " _ **And your friends...are…"**_ He pauses for dramatic effect, raising a hand to increase the hype of his proclamation, "History!" His sudden drop of song got Gus and the trio to stop dead in their tracks. It was honestly that scariest thing he's done since returning to Wasteland. The four gawked at him in terror, his latest dome stepping to the stage with five spade spider legs. The likes on the end ruptured the solid stone, sensing chills down their spines. "My ride will pull the Guardians out of Wasteland! Then EVERYONE and EVERYTHING will become inert." He traced his fingers to the tips of his mustache, purring lustfully at the image of Wasteland wasting away. He put his hands to the dome's glass, pressing his sinister grin closer so he may see their despair. "Your ridiculous friends included." Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald gasped in terror of his plan. The worst of the icy fear gripped at Mickey and Cecelia. Talons dripping with a acidic toxin drummed to their shoulders, their veins clenching and choking them, and throbbing against their skin. Ortensia, Horace, Clarabelle, Jamface - everyone was going by to fade away into nothing. Gus and Oswald too. Nothing will be left! That maniac was going to eviscerate this world! "And when I enter the Cartoon World, I will use the brush to become the greatest villain OF ALL TIME!"

Cecelia isn't quite sure exactly what it is that's been holding her together this long. She knows she's been angry, hurt, and she's voiced these outrages in the best way she knows how. She unleashed the full throttle of her powers and made those who wronged this land pay for their crimes. She assured herself that Prescott received the full brunt of that wrath. But here...now...right as he declared his dream of being one of the great villains of history...she knows that isn't true. She's hasn't fallen apart. She's been broken down...but she didn't have a meltdown. She came at every adversity with a straight face almost every time. She was composed. The cork capping that composure just shattered into thousands of pieces, every ounce of searing hot liquid filled her veins. Her crimson eyes glossed in a hatred that would condemn her to a private seat in Hell. "Let me get this straight..." She quaked uncontrollably, keeping her head down so no one would see the seams coming undone. "You dropped off the face of Wasteland for a year, fooled everyone into thinking you've changed, got Prescott to do your dirty work, tore the land in half with a quake, RUINED my LOVE LIFE…" The boys shared stares, then took 20 steps away. Her head shot up. Flames mixed with volts of electricity roared from the corners of her eyes in place of tears. A vibrant orange and red light outlined her body. The boys took another 20 steps back. They were practically walking on the air, "JUST SO YOU CAN BE TOP DOG ON THE VILLAIN CHARTS?!" There had better be a punchline because this has to be some sort of joke. He's going to destroy the world, and try to destroy her home in order to be King Baddie?

"It is far more grander than that, Cecelia!" He poked the glass, portraying that he was poking her in her naive nose. "Once in the Cartoon World, I will begin again where I started before the world forgot about me!" The disdain in his voice was strong. It choked him always living in the humiliation of being forgotten so easily. "Only this time, they will not let me flicker in the back of their minds until I am extinguished. NO!" He snapped a finger in the air, blocking that notion from so much as drizzling to his bald scalp. "This time…" He cackled malignantly, rubbing his palms together, barely able to contain himself, "I will make sure they keep me in their hearts and minds. Those who don't, well," He casually leaned to one of the control levers, pretending to pick at his nails under his leather gloves. He slyly glanced in her direction, his grin snaking ear to ear, "You've seen what becomes of those whom I deem an obstacle."

"You sick son of a…" Her balled fist was engulfed in flames. Her teeth sharpened to fangs. For the first in place of the figurative sense, daggers unsheathed from her hardening glare. Three from each eye alight a moon's glow. Prescott, herself, Ortensia, The Guardians, The Blot himself - The Mad Doctor stomped on them all! "WE WON'T LET THAT HAPPEN!" She screamed. Oswald, Mickey, and Gus found their courage, returning to the arena to square off to the Mad Doctor.

"You're not only going to let it happen, Precious, you're going to help me!" Cecelia's brow twitched at being called precious. A hole opened in the vat of thinner, draining it into a bottomless abyss. A red light pierced the blackness. A large hand shot from the hole, its snake body soaked to the joints in the very thinner draining into its hovel. "Give me the brush," The four finger snapped twice like gator jaws, adding emphasis to the demand, "And I will set your friends, and your _precious Guardians_ free!" He can't lace any more disgust to his words even if he had his own brush. "REFUSE," The hand responded to his catch by erecting a finger for him. A very crafty piece of machinery, "And watch them turn inert. And I will DESTROY WASTELAND!" The snake hand shot from a coil, spreading itself within inches of Mickey and turning its head to add a little craze to the Mad Doctor's demands. And the ultimatum was set.

Oswald and Cecelia prepared to protest on Mickey's behalf. Tell the Doc he's crazy for asking for one of the most powerful weapons in their world. They were caught in dismay by a scream from Ortensia, Horace, and Clarabelle. Somewhere in the Doc's monologue, the three were inside the tunnel. A curtain of thinner blocked off from everyone else. "NO!" Cecelia didn't mean to scream. Ortensia is in this mess because of her. She can't pay for it. "ORTENSIA!"

"CLARABELLE! HORACE!" Gus wailed.

" _WE'RE ALRIGHT!_ " She called back. Cecelia's cat ears picked up the _for now_ she tried to whisper. She and Gus sank into one another's arms. They barely inched forward and the Mad Doctor's creation smashed down right in the path, barely a breath from smashing them.

"Now, now, now, there will be no cheating, kiddies." The Mad Doctor cackled mockingly. Cecelia and Gus growled at him. That was rich coming from him.

Oswald bristled at how close to death his love and friends are. And what lengths the Doc was willing to go to in order to maintain his advantage. They don't deserve this. They haven't done anything. Yet here they are being used as bargaining chips. He didn't know what to do. The directions he was being torn apart toward were agonizing. There were ropes on his wrists. One pulling as viciously for him to acquiesce to The Mad Doctor's demand as the one wanting him fight the Mad Doctor to his last breath. But...if they do...Ortensia, Horace, and Clarabelle, the Guardians will get hurt. And consequently, if they don't fight, then not only will Wasteland suffer, but the cartoon world and Cecelia's home will suffer as well. Classic needs of the many against the needs of the few. And those few and many are tied to that one brush. Oswald stared at it like the key to salvation that it was. He's almost lost Wasteland twice before now. The way to save it was paved with so many trials and demands he almost gave up. He kept fighting because those in his life assured him there was something worth fighting for, and there was always a way to win. That way...was giving him the brush. Oswald can't bring himself to do it, let alone ask Mickey to. But the question is, can he let Wasteland be destroyed for the brush? Or can he live with condemning everyone to a lifetime of terror?

Mickey looked to Cecelia and Oswald, begging that one of them help him figure out what to do. Neither of them moved. Cecelia was rooted in place, her eyes glossing at how little wiggle room their options had left them. Mickey can see in her eyes and in Gus's that they don't want him to do this, while at the same time they didn't want anyone to get hurt. It would make everything that they've been fighting for mean nothing. What is point in trying to save everyone if they would set them up for the guillotine? In the end though, Mickey remembered how she sacrificed her own powers to save everyone. She knew what it meant to give it up. What the consequences would be. She would be left defenseless, to a degree. But at least those she cared for would live. If The Mad Doctor gets the brush...two worlds will suffer...but everyone will be alive. They'll be safe...to a point. He won't make them suffer, and he won't make Cecelia and Mickey watch that horror, or live their lives knowing everyone was killed because Mickey kept the brush. In the end...there was no other choice. Mickey hugged the brush, then reluctantly held it out. The Mad Doctor had won.

The Mad Doctor pumped a fist in victory. He moved the snake arm to retrieve his prize. "No, Mickey!" Oswald threw himself in the way, spreading his little rabbit body protectively. Gus and Cecelia couldn't look. The hand stopped and was taken away. Oswald, Cecelia, and Gus poked an eye open, unable to believe the Doc didn't just knock him out of the way. Oswald squared himself for a fight. "The Brush would make him unstoppable!" The Mad Doctor fumed in his bubble. So close, and once again pushed so far back by that rabbit.

"Well…" Mickey stepped forward with a grin. He clenched a fist, "Then let's stop him!" He and Oswald got into their stances.

Cecelia came up behind them where a contemptuous glare. She spun into the air with spread arms, flaring magic gloving her hands and feet, "FOR GOOD!" The Mad Doctor flew into a fit of maniacal laughter. It howled across the abyss. The snake arm's body wiggled in tandem to the laughter. He was hoping they would put up a fight. It will make his victory of this world and the next all the more sweeter.

The first move went to the snake arm. Its fingers wiggled tauntingly slow, the body rolling in deliberately smooth swings. Like a serpent toying with its prey before it struck. Mickey and Oswald broke off from Cecelia, strafing to the sides so they wouldn't be an easy target. Gus took the skies, staying just out of reach of the monster's grasp. To be clutched in those thick appendages was a guaranteed sign of their death warrants. The snake's head was swaying side to side, deliberating within itself on which one would face it's wrath first. The rabbit, the mouse, the cat, or the gremlin. Mickey twirled his brush like a baton, taking an offensive fencer's stance. Oswald primed his remote, holding it out like a wand. Cecelia was hovering a few inches off the ground, her the glow around her gloves wafting like a cool flame. The snake contorted its body in an uncomfortable looking coil, veering toward Oswald. A lot of work just for one side. Oswald's finger crushed to the remote button. The snake dodged the stream, whipping itself out of the coil. The fingers closed around the red eye and it came down for Mickey. He was able to dive out of the way. The ground was cracked in his place, a shockwave shoving the mouse an extra couple of feet. The closed snake hand came back over Mickey. Oswald and Cecelia connected streams of electricity at the neck and head. The body spasmed out of control, writhing in agony as it was guided away from Mickey. Cecelia and Oswald poured on the power, taking steps in to increase the payload. The snake head broke open, twisting violently as the circuits became overwhelmed. Mickey poured thinner into the eye. The snake didn't look like it was made of toon, but he can't let his pals have all the fun. The thinner poured down its throat, leaking from the hinges and joints down its body. The snake became so overloaded that it failed its body in desperation to escape its torture. It regurgitated some of the thinner at Cecelia and Oswald. They stopped their assault to belly flop to the ground, hissing as thinner sprinkled to their skin. The snake smashed itself to the walkway, running itself over it in a sweep. Oswald and Cecelia got their feet in time to jump over it. Gus had to fly in and save Mickey last second. The snake stopped it's assault just before it hit the tunnel pouring with thinner. It shook its head, hissing sickly up at the mouse and gremlin. It spat up loogies of wadded up thinner. Gus threw himself side to side, holding Mickey as tight as he could. The extra weight made it hard to dodge the thinner wads. He tossed Mickey up when he had to drop, then caught him again. By a strange gift of luck the next wad missed them, but a tiny bit fell to Gus's shoulder. He winced in pain, bringing Mickey to rough landing on the walkway. Oswald went to his tunnel that was pouring a paint curtain, lathering his paws with the paint. He rubbed it to wear the thinner sprinkled to him, then put some on Cecelia. The snake cough up the thinner, shaking off the paralyzing tingles of the shock it got. It snarled murderously at the trio, vowing to make them pay for this assault. It was ready for an all new round, and had plenty of energy to do it. That's the weird part though...to Cecelia and Gus anyway. The snake clearly took a hit from all three of them. But the damage seemed...less than what it should have been. As if, somehow, the snake minimized the amount of damage it took. After all that there should at least be charred spots where the thinner was leaking, or the snake's body losing stability. At the very least it shouldn't be able to move so fluidly. That thing was near shiny, and was dancing like a streamer in the breeze.

"If that is the best you've got," The Mad Doctor taunted, "Then you might as well lie down and die like the dogs that you are!"

"WE'RE NOT DOGS!" The four barked insulted. Being compared to dogs...how disgusting! Mickey and Cecelia gave the Doc a taste of their newly patented thinner bomb. Cecelia tossed it up. Mickey took a batter's stance and hit a high fly ball down the middle for the Doctor. The snake close its head and spiked the bomb back at them. Mickey got behind Cecelia. She spread her palms, growing a woven web. The bomb was sprang off the web, falling into the thinner vat and exploding.

Oswald took the lead from there, shocking the snake to its system. Mickey began filling it with thinner again. Cecelia materialized green pike shards from the thinner fumes, pelting at the snake's body. The snake choked on the thinner, spitting it right back at Mickey. He sprang back, climbing on the small wall as the slab of toon evaporated right before his eyes. Somehow he missed that the walkway was made of toon. The snake shook off the thinner leaking from the joints. Mickey sprayed thinner again. The snake dodged the next stream, smashing its face at Mickey. Gus was able to pull Mickey out of the way in the nick of time. The snake snarled heatedly at the gremlin stealing its prey. Oswald shocked a collar to the snake, driving that beast back his way. The leaking thinner conducted the electricity, intensifying the surge. The snake coiled its body tightly, vibrating its body to disrupt the volts surging into his circuits. It closed its head, striking like a cobra at Oswald. He revved his ears, taking off into the air. Cecelia maintained her onslaught, enlarging the shards each new round. The shards were striking the armor from base to head. She can hear the shrill screech of glass on metal, and see them slicing at the armor. How is that thing swatting away her spells like flies so easily? She knows she isn't up to full snuff, but she should at least be leaving a few scratches! This proves her unease at the lack of damage was warranted. That snake has a secret, and it's making Cecelia look like a chump. The snake opened its head, slithering toward her. Cecelia stopped her attack, closing her fists grudgingly. The snake struck out. Gus, Mickey, and Oswald unleashed warmonger cries falling from the sky, stomping to two footed kicks right to the snake's trio kicked off with all their might, knocking the snake into the wall of the paint tunnel. Mickey and Oswald landed with a hand to the ground, ready and waiting for that snake to get back up.

Attacking the snake wasn't going to get them anywhere fast. It was time to take out the real head. Cecelia broke away from the boys, lining herself up with The Mad Doctor. He smirked at her, finding it adorable the little kitty wants to take him on. "I'm going to enjoy tearing you apart!" She growled rabidly.

"Are you sure you should be channeling your anger at me?" He cooed mockingly. "After all, it isn't my fault your magic was stolen. Or that you were too stupid to see the truth when it stated you in the face!" He cackled.

"Oh trust me, I tore myself and Prescott a new one!" She scooped up two fistfuls of rubble, crushing it to dust in her palms. She threw it into the air. The rubble dust shaped into bees with large stingers filled with oozing acid. "NOW IT'S YOUR TURN!" She thrust her palm forward. The bees charged in their swarm, their stingers throbbing for the flesh of the Mad Doctor.

Meanwhile, Mickey and Oswald were pouring on the thinner and electricity, wrestling to keep the snake focused on them. It would thrash its body to get free of their attacks, smashing blindly at wherever they were in order to keep them at bay. Mickey and Oswald met up, combing their streams in a blast, hitting the snake up its body to its head. The snake roared with a wailing screech, writhing as smoke wafted its wounds. The two had the machine on the ropes. A few more of these blasts and the Mad Doctor won't have anything to hide behind. The snake growled venomously, the thinner its been forced to swallow oozed from the socket. It drew its body back. Oswald let it have it with more electricity. Crackles of blue light gathered at the eye, swallowing Oswald's pitiful streams like juice. "Its absorbing my electricity!" Oswald cried, stopping his remote. Mickey hissed through gritted teeth, pouring on the thinner in hopes of eliminating the charge. It was for naught. The snake gathered its energy to its zenith.

"Huh!" Cecelia was rooted in place, her eyes widening with dread. Hers bees came within an inch of the Mad Doctor...and then just stopped. He raised a disinterested brow, then glanced at Cecelia. The hairs all over her stood on end. A veil was looking to her skin, stroking her with a familiar caress. "This...feeling…" The snake launched a crackling ball of electricity, the tail end coming with an electrical storm. It fired so fast that Mickey and Oswald were unable to dodge, and the ball exploded on a direct hit. The two were sent skipping over the edge, grabbing the ledge at the last second. Cecelia bees lost their forms, falling to pieces into the thinner vat. The Mad Doctor watched with disappointment, while Gus was utterly shocked her spell failed. Cecelia was lost in her head, her neck craning in the direction of the snake. "What was that?" She asked breathless, fearing she already knew the answer. The snake turned to her. The fingers wiggled dauntingly. Cecelia stared in a trance at the snake, confusion and fear racking her brain. That tingling she felt over her skin. There was only one other time she felt that. "It couldn't be-"

" _OSWALD! HELP US!_ " Ortensia's scream cut through the tension of the battle like it were warmed butter. Since the snake began its assault, Oswald and the others became so preoccupied with not dying that they neglected dividing in order to conquer The Doc. Not that he was going to let them get anywhere near the thinner tunnel Ortensia, Clarabelle, and Horace were taken into. "OSWALD!" Ortensia screamed again. But not from the tunnel. Fear ridden eyes snapped toward the Mad Doctor. He snickered mockingly, bouncing his finger down to direct everyone's attention to the platform under his dome. The teacups trapping Ortensia, Horace, and Clarabelle were on a track beneath The Mad Doctor, guns loaded with thinner aimed right for them. Clarabelle frantically scrambled back from the drops oozing from the barrels. "OSWALD! HURRY!" Ortensia begged him.

"Hang on, Ortensia!" Oswald screamed, despair filled his little bunny chest. He took off into the air, launching like Superman to save his Lois. The Mad Doctor snapped his fingers. The snakehead sprouted in Oswald's path and smacked him like a tennis ball. Incidentally, the hand made a nice spike, earning it 15 points. The snake hissed rabidly, body wiggling in a dare for Oswald to try again. The thinner guns moved in on the captives. "No! Please! Don't hurt them!" Oswald cried from his knees, hand reaching out in vain for his sweetheart. The Mad Doctor chuckled at his pitiful begging, and he pushed a button. The thinner guns charged. "DON'T DO THIS! I'LL DO ANYTHING! PLEASE, DOC!" But his plight was received by deaf ears. The guns fired. "NOOO!" Ortensia, Clarabelle, and Horace Cringed into balls, squeezing their eyes closed as thinner gushed from the barrel.

" _PROHIBERE!_ " _**(Stop)**_ Cecelia's command carried a shrill shockwave. A misty rainbow aura roared from her body. Ortensia, Clarabelle, and Horace were trembling, screaming prayers in their minds as their gruesome fate...didn't...come? Shouldn't they be melting into disgusting puddles of nothing by now? They poked their eyes open, and they gasped at what stroke of luck saved their necks. Time itself quite literally stopped around the guns. The thinner was solidified in the barrel, barely making it an inch out. Eyes automatically went to Cecelia. Her outstretched hand encased a mirage like aura around the guns. Ortensia, Clarabelle, and Horace deflated with relief. Oswald was on the verge of tears, thanking Cecelia profusely. Cecelia closed her hand. The mirage seeped into the guns, then they shattered like bits of glass. The thinner they contained spilled to the ground, bleeding back into the pool.

The Mad Doctor, however, was frothing at the mouth. "YOU BLASTED FELINE! STAND STILL WHILE I CRUSH YOU!" The snake heard its master's call, bringing its closed head over her.

Cecelia snorted at the boring threat. She ran off to the side, escaping the crushing demise. They didn't have anymore time to waste on this snake. They had to get to their friends. "C'mon, Gus!" She raced for the paint tunnel, figuring if the thinner tunnel took Ortensia and the others to the Doc, this one would too. Gus seconded her plan, flying alongside her.

"I don't think so!" The Mad Doctor snarled. He pulled a lever.

The air became electrified. A familiar sensation crawled over Cecelia's skin. "What?" She turned her head with her eyes widening terrified. The eye of the beast had a dozen rings shrink around it, a ball of liquid like energy inflated in the middle of the palm. Wisps of rampant energy curved the orb, ghosting to Cecelia's skin. She recognized that energy. She stopped in a sliding turn, throwing her body in the opposite direction. "LOOK OUT!" She tackeld Gus to the ground. The ball erupted in a beam that heated the air, brushing the souls of Cecelia's shoes as it missed. The beam melted a chunk of the rotating walkway. Gus swallowed a massive lump, sweat beading down his brow at how close that was. Cecelia, however, was sick to her stomach. "That was...that's not possible!" She snapped her head to the recoiling snake arm, glaring daggers at the eye. The Mad Doctor sensed her desire for an answer, and was happy to widen the slot so she could see...Prescott's Core. "THE CORE FROM THE ARENA! It's inside the hand!"

"What?! No way!" Mickey gasped. Sure enough it was. He recognizes that unstable orb anywhere. "How did he get it?!"

"Drat!" Gus slapped a hand to his forehead. "Jamface has been working to calm it so you can get your powers back!" Cecelia blinked in surprise. _He was?_ "The Mad Doctor must have known and taken it for his own purposes!"

"But how can he use it?!" Oswald blurted. "I thought it was so unstable it couldn't' be moved!"

"Good question…" Cecelia murmured. She ran a hand over her eyes, casting a violet sheet to the red. With it she is able to see hidden scripts, imprints, or glyphs that are being used. The sheet highlighted the symbol on her spellbook and gloves. She moved her sights to the hand. Cecelia's jaw dropped. Two spots on the hand's eye lit up with the same glyphs she had used to control the orb. The exact same ones in HER palm writing. "I don't believe it! He has two of my glyphs on that thing!" Fun fact - no two glyphs are drawn the same, not even when transferred from a palm. "He took the pieces of floor with the glyphs and put them on the machine!"

"Dang! He's been busy!" Oswald felt exhausted just thinking about what he had to go through just to not draw the glyphs himself.

"I am so killing Prescott when I find him!" Cecelia vowed. An ethereal silver trigram spanned from her feet. Spires of light accompanied by a plethora of fuzzy orbs scaled to her height. Her eyes were alight with the brilliant hue. She stretched one hand back, angling the other down and forward. " _Tear asunder the sisterly binds!_ " She flourished the back hand, reorienting the lights into dozens of crystallized shards. " _PRISMATIC MISSILE!_ " She swung her arms froward, shaping her fingers like guns. Volleys of missile launched, reloading one right after the other. Half shrieking like shooting stars, pelting the snakehead ruthlessly, and the other half attacking the Mad Doctor's done. The shards shattered on their endless impact. Fragments rained into the thinner, and onto the heads of Ortensia, Horace, and Clarabelle, and a cloud of missile dust swallowed the Mad Doctor and the snakehead. After a long few seconds, Cecelia eventually ran out of ammunition. The trigram faded away. It went silent. Cecelia stood her ground, glaring hard at the two patches of dust with her hands still raised. A drop of sweat was running down the side of her head. Her anxiety was on overdrive on whether or not this worked. The dust was beginning to clear. Cecelia's throat clenched. The Mad Doctor's dome and the snake head reappeared...their hulls shiny as new toys from a package. A mocking sheen ran across their surfaces. "DAMMIT! Not a scratch!" Cecelia snarled disdainfully.

"How is that possible?!" Mickey cried. Every single missile hit! How did they not take any damage?!

This is where Cecelia screamed profanities at herself for her oversight. "The glyphs not only trap magic in, they keep magic out! They're a shield and a cage!" When she studied the glyphs, she didn't really take into account how they can be used against her. She didn't think anyone else would play at sorcerer. She, Mickey, and Oswald didn't need Gus to explain that the Mad Doctor clearly modified his monster to work around the glyphs restrictions in order to turn it into the death cannon that it is. That's a long explanation that they didn't have a second for an introductory. That's when dread ran down Cecelia's spine. _I made four glyphs._ Cecelia coated her eyes in the ultraviolet hue. She scanned the TWO glyphs on the snakehead, then scrolled her gaze to the Mad Doctor's dome. More appropriately, the two tiki masks hooked to the dome. "No…" She groaned in disbelief. She can't believe she didn't see this coming. "The other two glyphs! They're on the makss on the dome!"

"Great! Another wannabe sorcerer!" Oswald snarled. He's really going to hate magic after this. Cecelia might retire.

The Mad Doctor threw his head to the sky, howling in victorious laughter. "These glyphs of yours are very handy." He pet the glass behind the tiki masks, dripping salt on Cecelia's wounded pride. It charged an electrical blast, launching a rampant ball of static. Cecelia dropped to one knee, swinging her arms over her head. The ball exploded into a tesla bubble off a dome shaped shield. "Four times in one adventure your powers are turned against you." He swung his arm. The snake reacted to the command. The snakehead launched a magma beam from earlier. It tore through the top of her shield, carving downward. Cecelia dropped the shield and dove out of the way. Gus swooped in and saved her by the wrist, taking her outside the arena to catch her breath. "Not so special now, are you?"

"I don't need to be special to kick your ass!" She kicked a foot, tearing a black portal open. Gus dropped her inside and then dove in with her. A second one opened over the Mad Doctor. He was indifferent to her blatant assault. Rather disappointed she would continue with the insanity of a second try after debunking her ability to lay a hand on him. Gus came rocketing out of the portal with two wrenches crossed in front him, making the Mad Doctor gape in shock.

"SURPRISE, DOCTOR!" Gus flipped around, stabbing the wrenches through the dome. He ripped them out, darting back into the air. The Mad Doctor's eyes widened in horror of Cecelia charging for the portal. A toxic green cloud was gloved to her hand. She stuck her landing to where Gus pierced the dome. She slammed the hand to the holes, unleashing the cloud inside the dome. The Mad Doctor flew into a coughing fit. He flailed inside the dome, desperately fanning the cloud in vain to holes. His lungs were starting to burn. He fumbled around for the controls. Gus grabbed Cecelia as the Mad Doctor dropped the dome, the cloud evaporating on the air. "ONCE MORE! WITH FEELING!" Gus encouraged. He flipped Cecelia onto his shoulders, holding her legs tight.

Cecelia raised her hands above her head, a cluster of volts gathering. " _FULEMENOS-_ " The snake hand batted Gus and Cecelia from beneath, sending them flipping wildly into the air. Cecelia lost her spell. Gus tried to regain his balance, thrashing about to get to Cecelia. The snake hand came around and snatched Gus and Cecelia in a vice grip, crushing them together.

"Now what was that you were saying kicking my ass?!" The Mad Doctor squeezing his hand prompted the snake to squeeze tighter. Cecelia and Gus cried out, their bones bending to their breaking point. "Not so cocky now, are you you wretched feline!" The snake resonated with The Mad Doctor's rage. A sickly brown aura coated Gus and Cecelia, pine needle thin tendrils piercing their skin. The needles started pumping, bloated spots running through them and into the snake head. Cecelia and Gus were about to scream, but found their strength to breathe was leaving them. Their bodies were emaciating. The bones becoming visible beneath their skin.

"NO! STOP! YOU'RE KILLING THEM!" Ortensa cried in dimsay, wrestling fevernetly against her binds. She doesn't know what she would be able to once she escaped, but she can't bear to see them suffer.

"And it can't possibly take any longer than this!" The Mad Doctor pretended to sound impatient, but in reality was having the time of his life.

"Drop 'em!" Oswald roared. He and Mickey combined their streams, blasting the snake right at its neck. It roared in pain, releasing a barely conscious Gus and Cecelia. The life the snake had drained rejuvenated of its own accord, breaking the pair from their perilous free fall coma. Gus was able to regain his flight, while Oswald swooped in and caught Cecelia bridal style. "You two alright?"

"We'll survive." Gus groaned while flying back to Mickey, rubbing his aching arms. Another second later and he was sure they'd break. The blast dealt by Oswald and Mickey packed a heavier punch than the snake was prepared for.

"NO! NOT NOW! NOT WHEN MY VICTORY IS AT HAND!" The Mad Doctor howled. he was smashing at the controls, fuming at his creation, demanding that it get back up and crush them. "BAH! WORTHLESS! Time for an upgrade!" The Mad Doctor smashed a button on his control panel. The dazed snake jumped slightly, then gradually rode the thinner vat down the drain, being slurped up like a wet noodle. "I will deal with you later!" The Mad Doctor took off in his spider dome, the tiki masks rotating around the glass to give it a little extra oomph, and he dove into the vat after his creation. Oswald and Mickey inched cautiously to the vat, squinting hard to see inside the deep hole. No surprise, they didn't see much past the fumes and thinner. the two looked to each other, feeling it in the air. The end to this battle was drawing closer. The Mad Doctor and the snake were on their last legs. This is their only respite. They need to make it count. Deal the coup de gras while The Mad Doctor is preoccupied.

But before that, Oswald and Gus scooped up Mickey and Cecelia, flying over to Ortensia and the others. They cut the ropes from their chafed wrists. Ortensia tackled Oswald with a hug. She sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, squeezing him tightly. "It's okay, Ortensia. I'm here." He cooed softly, running his hands down her back. Although, he was tempted to break into tears too. He thought he would lose her.

Cecelia sheepishly approached her, ears drooped and tail wrapped at her waist in deep regret. She fiddled with her fingers, not sure how she can ever apologize to Ortensia for what she's done. "Ortensia...I-"

Ortensia scared her when she ambushed her with a hug, her warm tears trickling to her shoulder. Cecelia was gaping in confusion, her hands remaining spread out like this was a trick. "You're alright...I'm so happy you're alright!"

Cecelia's ears and tail lifted, a smile warming her cheeks. She returned Ortensia's hug, laughing at how silly she was. How silly they both were. "That's my line." A lone tear of joy ran down her cheek.

Clarabelle and Horace were helped out of the teacups by Gus and Mickey, allowed to keep a hand to their shoulders so they wouldn't fall over. "You guys alright?"

"We'll live, thanks to you all." Horace praised them.

"Though not for much longer if that madman isn't stopped!" Clarabelle added, really wanting to give that Doctor a piece of her mind. Horace had to grab hold of her purse in order to keep her from marching off to her doom. They were just saved, after all.

"This fight is not yet lost, my friends! We can still turn this around!" Gus tired to encourage his friends.

"Not while that snake has the core inside it." Mickey declared heatedly, lending his ailing gremlin friend his shoulder to lean on. Gus appreciated it. He wasn't as young as his proteges. "It doesn't matter what we do! As long as that thing has the core, we'll be done for. And so will the rest of Wasteland.

Cecelia grit her teeth, the glare in her eyes sharpening like scalpels. "Then it's time that it didn't!" She shouted frothing at the mouth. The only problem with her statement...she knows full well there isn't any time to perform a ritual to rob the snake of its true power. She slipped from Oswald's arms, burdened as a second option came to mind. Her heart wavered as she knew what it would mean should she proceed...and what was at risk if she didn't. Looking back hard at The Mad Doctor's exit, and then softening her face at Ortensia, Clarabelle, and Horace...Cecelia knows what she has to do. She lose what she loves...but better than that those that she cherishes. "Gus, get these guys back home!" Cecelia ordered. Gus snapped to attention, giving her a salute. Ortensia didn't want to leave, but has learned her lesson since last time. She kissed Oswald, then followed along with Horace and Clarabelle. Gus wished his friends luck, then led the troupe to a projector he spotted before he got crushed. "You two take out the Doc! Leave the snake to me!"

"What are you planning?" Oswald nervously asked.

"A gamble." She cryptically replied. "Do you trust me?"

"You already know the answer to that one." Oswald winked. Cecelia smiled proudly. She feels less scared about her decision now. "Let's finish this." He held out his hands to Mickey and Cecelia. The Mad Doctor was waiting for them just down that hole. They started this fight together. It's high time they finish it. Cecelia and Mickey proudly stepped to Oswald's side, taking his hands with a firm grip. Oswald pulled Hercules strength out of nowhere, and took them down into the hole.

 **xxx**

Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia descended into a murky tunnel just gushing with thinner spilling to who knows where. Cecelia cast a small spell on her and Mickey to make them lighter so Oswald wouldn't strain himself carrying them. The tunnel ran deeper than rainbow caverns, the D.E.C - further than anywhere that had been explored in Wasteland. Oswald lives here and he never knew there were tunnels running down this. He couldn't stop his mind from wondering what more lied within the bowels of his home. What new lands might be waiting to be explored. Are there attractions that were lost in the Thinner Disaster and Blot Reign residing down here? So many possibilities. If he weren't in the middle of a life or death battle, he would pack his things and see where the tunnel led.

The tunnel let out into a massive cavern, the walls abundant with man made gaping gashes. This cavern was dug out for quite the length of time. The walls were vibrant with a green hue coming off the lake of thinner below. The thinner likely had a run off somewhere inside it since it wasn't rising higher than the arena sized platform nesting on its surface. Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald's eyes widened in awe and horror of the enormous Guardian siphon running on full power. Thousands of Turps and Tiny buzzing crazily inside the cylinders, pelting themselves at the glass to escape. The trio had a front row seat to see the next batch of Turp and Tints be sucked in. This siphon wasn't just larger than the three counterparts before it. The immense amount of power it had was allowing it to suck three times the number of Guardians out of Wasteland, and hold every single one of them. At this rate...the Mad Doctor was about to get his wish. Wasteland was going to be destroyed.

Oswald let Mickey and Cecelia off onto the arena. The three were on high alert. It was far too quiet. Save for the loud noises coming from the Guardian siphon. The cavern was lit up enough, but neither of them could find the Mad Doctor or his snake claw anywhere. They were hiding somewhere though. There was a rolling current that brushed the surface of the thinner, then sank back down. Mickey swallowed a massive lump. Chills scaled his skin as he prayed he was seeing things. Thinner does behave oddly. When he turned another way, his heart skipped a beat seeing pieces of metal break the surface and then dive back down. "Guys…" He moaned.

"We know." Oswald and Cecelia replied. The suspense was killing them slowly. They can feel them burning their predatory gazes into their backs, waiting for the right moment to pounce. The Guardians waiting to be rescued are the perfect bait. Bait that the trio were going to take hook, line, and sinker.

"You know he's waiting for us to be heroic, right?" Cecelia cynically remarked.

"Well we can't just leave the Guardians in there!" Mickey stressed, understanding that he's playing right into The Mad Doctor's hands. "How do ya suppose we free 'em?"

"With that!" Oswald pointed at an access port by the siphon. "That access port has to be how we free them." And it was sitting right there...waiting...begging for Oswald to waltz on over and hack into it. No way are they going to be this gullible. Yes they are. If the Mad Doctor is lurking, he'd better act fast. Oswald's ears spun at mach speeds. He launched like a rocket, pulling out his remote. He aligned it with the access port...a hard object smacked him from the side, sending him bouncing for the thinner lake. Mickey and Cecelia made it just in time to catch him, then grimaced at the tail that had swatted Oswald like a bug. "D...I...knew...it…" Oswald dizzy proclaimed, raising a noodle finger into the air. Poor guy had birds tweeting around his head.

The tail slipped beneath the thinner. The Snakehead rose, curling half its battered body onto the platform. The trio inched back apprehensively, finding the massive shadow consuming them very daunting. The snake is much larger up close and not half obscured in a small pool. This might be harder than they thought. "That thing doesn't go down easily, does it?" Mickey remarked. On the bright side, the beating it was taking earlier was starting to wane on its body. One more assault, and they just might take it out. But, it went without saying, it didn't plan on going down easy. "C'mon! We can take it!" Mickey boasted.

"Oh...I'm sure you can!" Came the mocking voice of the Mad Doctor. Their heads shot up to the second platform. The razor tipped legs of the Mad Doctor's dome leaped from the edge, bringing the tiki masked dome to join the fray. "But can you handle US is an all new ball game!" Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald felt their courage slip out of their hides. This really wasn't their day. "I will find what lies beyond this pesky little world! All who stand in my way will be crushed! And I just might be merciful enough to kill you all before you have a chance to see your loved ones suffer!" He and the snake encroached closer, really taking away what space Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald had before their bath. They were starting to shake, fearing they might have bitten off more than they can chew coming down here. From the beginning, they knew what leaping into that projector would mean. They were on the Mad Doctor's turf now. His domain, his creations, his rules. They've dived so deep into his choking grasp that there was no other means of escape except...fight. The Mad Doctor chuckled at their posturing. Them shifting into their stances was cute. "Why fight, my friends? Give me the brush and I will end your lives swiftly."

"That's not going to happen!" The three screamed at him.

The Mad Doctor laughed again. "Good…" He purred. He didn't want this to be too easy.

"Time to level the playing field." Cecelia declared. She lit the tips of her two index fingers, drawing four of the same glyphs she made for the core before, only now she added one extra symbol to each one.

"Cecelia, what are you doing?" Mickey quaked.

"What needs to be done!" She snarled. And what comes next...she holds no regrets. " _Oblittero!_ **(** _ **Cancel**_ **)** " She cast a hand out, pasting the glyphs to the ones on the snake, and the ones the Mad Doctor was hiding behind. The old glyphs evaporated under the new one. A sheen glossing the snake and dome peeled off in a gust of mist. " _Aufero!_ _ **(remove).**_ " She whipped both arms out. The glyphs ripped right off the dome and snake like bandages, leaving nasty scars in their wake. The Mad Doctor looked on in disbelief, while Mickey and Oswald became scared. Cecelia looked the Doc in the eye. She crushed her hands closed. The glyphs were crushed into nothingness, freeing the masks and snake from their hold. "There. The glyphs are no more." She declared. Fire, ice, and lightning surged around her fists. "Now I'm free to inflict as much pain as I want!"

Oswald screamed at the top of his lungs, pulling at his ears. "BUT...WE'LL...WE'LL BE-"

"You said you trusted me right?" Cecelia howled. Oswald stopped panicking, bobbing his head with terror. "Good!" Was all she said because the Doc was done idling.

"BAH-HA-HA! You have just sealed your fate!" He hooted. The core in the snake's eye crackled with rampant energy. Without the glyphs, there is nothing restraining the awesome power within the weapon. Their death was upon them. The Mad Doctor made the first move. He bid the snake try out its new power up. The electrified blast from before roared intensely from the eye. The air became electrified. The energy trapped in the tail whipped out violently, tearing gashes into the ground. The trio dove out of the way. The blast tore the edge off, ripping through the thinner and blowing on impact when it hit the wall. An electrified hole was left in its wake. "Ooh-hoo-hoo! I'm going to enjoy this!"

The Mad Doctor made his next move. His front spider legs bucked up high, coming down hard and fast. Mickey and Cecelia dove to the sides while Oswald darted right underneath him, escaping just before the legs pierced the hard metal flooring. The Mad Doctor snarled animally, wrenching at the controls to get free. Oswald skid to a halt behind him, aiming him remote for one of the legs. The snake had other plans as it hissed and closed its head for an attack. "HEY, UGLY!" It heard two voices scream.

Mickey and Cecelia skipped up a pair of the spider legs, flipped both feet onto the dome, ricocheting for the snake. "CHEW ON THIS!" Mickey roared. Cecelia cast glistened armor to their legs, and she and Mickey dealt swift uppercut kicks into the chin. if the snake had a chin that is, they would have just kicked it. The snake's head jerked up slightly, but it wasn't deterred. "Do we have your attention now?!" The snake swayed its head to either side where Mickey and Cecelia landed, debating on who to eat first. "That's a yes!" The two led it away from Oswald, brazenly jumping to its hull and ninja running down it. The snake hissed in insult, whipping around and shaking its body as it chased them.

Oswald shot a bolts of electricity at one of the spider's joints. The impacted was felt as it caused the Doc's machine to nearly topple over. He planted the other legs to save himself. "Give it up, Doc! you can't beat all three of us!" Oswald irritatingly declared.

"Funny…" The Mad Doctor used the leverage to rip himself free. the stone beneath the metal incidentally sharpened the legs, adding that menacing shine to them. He wheeled the spider around, loomed over Oswald, "I was about to say the same thing!" he stooped low, swiping two spider legs like sickles. Oswald ducked and jump the first two swings, then proceeded to skip backwards form the next few. "The difference here is you should have given up from the start!" Oswald scampered away, taking The Mad Doctor to the other side of the arena.

Thinner, fireball, thinner, wind blades, more thinner, more magic! The snake was being hit from all sides, not sign of relenting in sight. Mickey and Cecelia crisscrossed one another, timing their moves in perfect sync. Giving each other leg up, covering their backs, striking together and then splitting up to dive and conquer. They pulled off their volatile thinner bombs, landing three of nicely and blowing holes in the snake's body. The snake roared, growing more and more irate with these insects by the second. Thinner washed the snake from head to the middle of its body, bringing on a strong set of rust to the joints and heating up the circuits. A variety of spells pelting its body being diminished because of the glyphs, but doing enough damage to begin to sting. It launched beams, lightning balls, spat up globs of thinner. Indiscriminately did the snake attack, calling upon the uncapped power of the core, hungering to reduce the mouse and cat into nothing. Every so often the snake, Mickey, and Cecelia would miss their target, chipping away at the cavern walls and the guardian siphon. The snake whipped its tail out of the thinner, hammering at Mickey and Cecelia, giving them a good game of deadly jump rope. Cecelia tripped on one of her jumps. Before she had a chance to touch the ground the snake had smashed her down. That was a nasty imprint she left. Mickey sprayed more thinner. The snake wove its body into loops, dodging the streams. It coiled around Mickey, giving him a quick squeeze, then unraveled him in a spin. The snake gave him an insulting tap, sending him spinning out of control into Cecelia. The two groaned dizzily, shook it off, then got back to their feet and began their onslaught again. The snake wasn't finished. In fits of rage it just kept shooting at them, unleashing the full fury of the magic infused core, melting trenches into the arena, tearing the cavern asunder, and bringing the stalagmites falling down on their heads and in the thinner. Mickey and Cecelia felt terrible for dodging, fearing all of this damage would bite them in the butt later. bt it had to be done. They can't die here. Mickey and Cecelia were breaking into cold sweats, their lungs on fire as they evaded and attacked at speeds beyond their limit. But they were not letting up for a second. The snake was on its last legs, and Oswald needs their help.

Oswald was dodging his fair share of attacks, losing patches of fur here and there in the process. The Mad Doctor was running his tongue across his lips. It is delicious. Tenderizing his enemy before he crushes him into oblivion. "Welcoming me with open arms so easily! Not the smallest hint of suspicion like the others!" The tiki masks spinned rapidly around the dome. The speed brought on a charge a virulent energy, unleashing it in a torrential blast. It struck the ground right as Oswald's feet, blowing him onto his back. "Giving me a _second chance_ because Mickey managed to melt the ice encased around that bitter heart of yours!" The Mad Doctor caught his accidental joked. He slapped his knee in a fit of laughter. "Well, if you HAD a heart, that is!" Oswald wasn't hurt by the joke. Just irritated. And slightly disappointed. A mad genius and that's the best he can come up with. "Even when the evidence piled up, you so foolishly maintained the essence that I was _reformed_ and _worthy of a second chance at life._ " It made him sick just reiterating Oswald's naivete. He's become so soft these past two years. The Doctor jumped the dome for Oswald. The Rabbit slipped away. The Doc managed the use the hind legs and kicked him like a bronco. Oswald spun his ears, avoiding a painful kiss to the ground. "Yet you were so eager to prove to Cecelia that her beloved gremlin was the true villain!"

"SHUT UP!" Oswald frothed at the mouth, his hovering becoming shaky in his rage.

"Oh-ho! Have I finally struck a nerve?!" The Mad Doctor cooed mockingly.

"I know what I did! I'll always live with it!" Oswald put a hand to his chest, curling his fingers into a fist. "But Cecelia forgave me! So I need to forgive myself!"

"Oh, has she now?!" The Mad Doctor tauntingly scoffed. "She doesn't seem to be one for forgiveness from what I've heard!"

"She's not!" Oswald opened the back of his remote, plucking a little gem from the slot. "And neither am I." He grinned, dropping the gem to the ground. The Mad Doctor ogled it strangely, then noticed there were of a few of those gems scattered around him. When Oswald lifted his remote, he got that bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Especially when we're stabbed in the back!" Oswald adjusted his remote. And with a push of a button he fired five streams at a time, casting several bursts to the gems lying about. The electricity lit up the gems and they exploded massacres of sticky thinner, drenching to the Mad Doctor's dome. The thinner was eating at the masks, the glass, and the legs got the worst of it. Sparks blew from the joints. The Dome's balance was failing. Oswald ran under the dome one more time. The Mad Doctor saw there was no escape...and the eject button was a gift given from mechanics heaven. Oswald set the remote on high, shove the antenna up the exhaust. "SO TAKE THIS AS MY _SCREW YOU, DOC!_ " The world briefly stopped dead at his swear. It was so raw to hear him talk like that. Oswald smashed a fist to the button. Lightning roared up the pipe. Oswald bailed when a blinding light filled the dome and blew it sky high like a rocket, sending it into the thinner where it sank to rot. Oswald paused a moment. He was racked with nausea at what he had done. He took a deep breath of courage, knowing his has to show the proper respect to someone who had fallen. Whether he deserves it or not. But when he did turn, he was stunned in disbelief.

Mickey and Cecelia combined a blast of thinner and ice, blasting the snake into the thinner lake as well. The two spun round to Oswald, gaping in awe as they saw the dome sink beneath the thinner. Only...it wasn't the dome. At least not all of it. JUST the spider legs were sinking into the thinner. The Mad Doctor's dome...was sputtering in the air, struggling to fly to the second floor.

"HE'S GETTING AWAY!" Cecelia roared.

"Forget about him!" Oswald said, running for the siphon. "We have to free these guys!" He accessed the port, releasing the locking mechanisms sealing the guardians inside. Several clicks later, swarms of Turps and Tints escaped the siphon, running up the tunnels and holes riddling the cavern. Healing Wasteland was in their hands now.

Oswald bumped fists with Mickey and Cecelia, very proud that they've accomplished something here today. A gutteral rumbling vibrated the cavern. The thinner's surface was bubbling, small ways rolling across and crashing to the wall. The vibrations evolved into shakes similar to the quake, making the trip lose their balance for a moment. This wasn't a quake. it wasn't even an aftershock. This was something far worse. "What's going on?!" Mickey cried.

"All this fighting caused a disturbance in the cavern!" Cecelia cried. the color drained from her face. The thinner was getting higher. Like the platform was sinking. No...it wasn't sinking. It was holding steady. "The thinner is rising!"

"We gotta move!" Oswald blurted. "UP THERE! THOSE PISTONS!" There were pistons and floating slabs of land leading to the second floor. Cecelia and Mickey climbed for their lives. Oswald took to the air, keeping low in case either of them fell. He was huffing heavily, his ears starting to cramp up. He was unnerved by the platform being swallowed up in the the thinner, thanking the Guardians they weren't in that mess. Mickey had to paint in a few slabs, but he and Cecelia never lost speed. Rocks came falling from the ceiling. Cecelia cast large shields and batted them away. The two tripped on one of their jumps, hitting the floor hard. Exhaustion was constricting their muscles, begging that they not move anymore. The rising thinner prevented that plight from being heard. Mickey and Cecelia clawed their way to that second floor. Oswald landed and gave them a hand, dragging them on. "You two alright?"

"We've been better…" Mickey panted.

"But we'll survive." Cecelia moaned. She looked over the edge, cringing at how close the thinner was getting. It was moving slow, but not slow enough.

"WILL YOU?!" The Mad Doctor's tiki dome descended. Black smoke choked out of its exhaust pipes. That thing was holding itself together with spit, grit, and duct tape at this point. The tiki masks had all fallen off to the platform, unable to stay on. Still the dome hovered, and The Mad Doctor pressed on. Long cables grew from the underbelly, lashing out in the blink of an eye. Oswald, Mickey, and Cecelia had their arms crushed their sides, their feet ripped off the ground. The Mad Doctor roared animally, yanking at the controls. Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia were swung around like yo-yos. Did a few old time tricks. Mickey was sent around the world, Oswald walked the dog, Cecelia got stuck in the pendulum swing. When the tricks were over with, Mickey was flicked to a faceplant in the ceiling. He peeled out with a groan. Even his pained expression left an imprint. He was in a free fall. The cable struck like a serpent, dealing a blow to his stomach and sending her soaring over the edge. The cable came around again and vollied him back up, and then spiked him to the arena floor. Cecelia and Oswald were bashed into each other, dragged along the coarse stone walls, and hung upside down by the ankles while extra cables slapped them silly. One of the cables balled into a bludgeon. It punched Oswald across the face, knocking him free of the other cable. Cecelia whipped around and flicked out of her cable, crashing hard into Oswald's back, and the two landed on Mickey. They will be feeling this tomorrow.

They weren't done. They can't be done. They have to keep fighting. Their bodies were battered by the fresh bruises beginning to swell. Open wounds stung in searing hot pain. Their heads were spinning, their vision blurring. Still they got their feet, showing that Doctor that they weren't done yet. "That...all...you got?!" Oswald challenged him.

The Mad Doctor admired their spunk. But it was time to end this. He snapped his fingers. The snake claw wrapped its body to the platform, using it to climb from its tomb and tower to its prey. That thing would not quit for the life of it. Electricity clung to the fingers. Cecelia didn't have time to think. She threw her hands up, a liquid shield starting to form. The snake's eye popped violently. A funnel of lightning roared upon them in a heated storm. Cecelia's flimsy shields were disintegrated. She and the boys howled in agony. The lightning ran up their limbs, diving through their flesh to their bones, cooking the marrow within. Their eyes were blinding in raves of light, a blackness was swallowing their world. Their voices soon stopped. Their throats too dried for another sound, but the pain was too excruciating to close their mouths. The Mad Doctor took pity on them...and after another minute of watching them fall to his might, seeing them fall to their hands and knees, he bid the snake cease its onslaught. The electricity died down. Smoke came from the fired trio. For a while...the three just sat there...stagnant as statue. Then...one at a time...they fell. Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald flopped in a defeated in a pile. Their battered bodies having nothing left in order to combat The Mad Doctor and his evil machines. Mickey, through sheer will, trembled badly as he pushed up on his elbows. The scratches and bruises throbbed, beating him to stay down. His lungs become inflamed, his heart on the verge of bursting all over the floor. A migraine viciously assaulted his head, making his vision blur and the world spin. That last ounce of strength left him in a breath and he collapsed. The brush rolled from his fingers.

"Here lies Wasteland's heroes. Lambs waiting to be slaughtered." The Mad Doctor cackled triumphantly, rubbing tons of salt in their wounds. He landed his spider dome across from them. The small quake he caused had the three stirring. The Mad Doctor snickered at their defiance. How adorable it is that they have enough strength to glare at him. Dying on their feet as he expected. "This place will be your tomb, Oswald. Your bodies will rot in this cavern, never to be found." The snake slithered from the other platforms, coiling its body and surrounding the exhausted trio. Were it they were able to get up, they wouldn't be able to climb their way out. The snake was primed for one final attack, and the Mad Doctor had a front row seat. "But do not despair." He crooned. "When I am named King of Wasteland, I will write a beautiful song of your heroism," He leaned in, soaking up Oswald's anguish, "And have it be sung to Ortensia and your little friends as they rot in the dungeons." Unbridled rage boiled Oswald's blood. he wrenched his body off the floor, pushing up on his hands. The Mad Doctor scoffed, waving his hand nonchalantly. The snake took the tip of its tail. It didn't even have to use too much force when it tapped Oswald's head. Which painfully face planted him. The snake aimed its head. It curled its fingers in. The tips conducted a spark. Streams shot into the eye. The eye surged rampantly as it gathered power for one more devastating attack.

Cecelia closed her eyes, curling her little fingers into fists. _Please...please...work...one last time...WORK!_ A tear of despair left her eye. She doesn't want a miracle. She just wants Wasteland and her friends to survive. She can't lose anyone else. _Save them...please save them._

"Farewell, HEROES!" A ball of blue and white light grew. "REST IN PEACE!" He threw his hand out. The snake coiled back, energy ceased feeding to the ball. The snake lurched forward. The trio tensed as the ball was hurtled toward them. They joined hands, wanting to meet the after life together. When the ball fell upon them...it dissipated on impact. Burst like a balloon. Nothing more than a static cling that frizzed Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald's hair into fluff balls. The trio blinked really confused, eyes darting around thinking they passed into the afterlife. The afterlife really looks like a sewer. "WHAT?! HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD?!" The Mad Doctor feverishly attacked the controls, trying for another attack.

The snake gained a secondary charge, then got a back case of the coughs. " _EEACK! EEACK!_ " It choked on the energy, losing the charge and spitting up oil and thinner this time. " _EECHOO! EECHOO!_ " That was funny. The snake was sneezing now. Thinner and oil leaked like snot. The snake then started to groaned, a bad case of the shakes rattling its nuts and bolts loose. It sickly bobbed side to side, turning greener than normal. It slithered away from the trio, moaning in agony as it returned to the thinner. The coughing and sneezing were getting worse. Each one blew a rip in the hull, running all the way down to its tail which had blown off next. Gears spun out of control and came hurtling off their rods like saw blades, slicing gashes inot everything in its path. Wires exploded apart, their sparks striking the motherboards like matches and spreading an internal fire. The links on the outside of the snake came undone, the body barely holding together by melting strings of adhesive magama. The thinner pooled inside it, weighing it down. Surges of wild electricity broke from the snake. Beams of light pierced the metal skin. random volts ran up the beams, lashing out viciously at the cavern. holes were blown in the walls, and in The Mad Doctor's surrounding machines.

"Finally…!" Cecelia rapsed.

"What is this?!" The Mad Doctor moved his dome out of the way of a beams. "What's happening?!"

"What would have happened to Prescott's arena had I not acted!" Cecelia boasted. The Mad Doctor being distracted let her regain some of her strength, letting her sit on a knee. "See...you should have done some research, Doc, before you took what wasn't yours." Cecelia mocked him, wobbily rising to her feet. "The core wasn't able to maintain the power on its own. It just spat it back out. Hence why I used those glyphs to help trap it inside." The Mad Doctor felt all contents in his stomach empty into his pants. He stared petrified of the snake. The blast that failed...it couldn't be...that he used up the magic? That's impossible. "My magic was what kept that core stable! And the glyphs are what kept the magic trapped. Without them...well…" She shrugged with a halfhearted, sinister scoff. She grinned evilly. Her ears erected like horns. The glow in her eyes had sweat running down everyone's back, "Good thing we're so far underground." She purred, licking her lips.

The snake was weighed further down into the thinner. Half its body left dead on the platform. The Mad Doctor didn't believe her! She was lying! He frothed at the mouth at her, ready to call her bluff. He whimpered in despair seeing the resigned expressions on Mickey and Oswald. He started to tremble in his boots. His worst fear came true. He exhausted his trump card...and a critical ball of energy was about to send him to meet his maker. "YOU'VE DOOMED US ALL!" The Mad Doctor activated his dome's rockets.

"No…" Cecelia moved closer to Oswald and Mickey. "JUST YOU!" She clapped her hands as hard as she could, shockwaves running for the dome. The waves ran up the cables of the dome just as it was leaving. The weight of the cables multiplied by a hundred, anchoring that dome right in place for the incoming blast. The Mad Doctor was filled with dread when he realized he was going nowhere fast...and the snake just seconds from exploding. "See you in Hell, Doc!" She stretched out her palms. The discarded tiki masks were summoned to her, encasing around her and the boys in a barrier. " _PROTEGO MAXIMA!_ " She screamed at the top of her lungs. She crouched low, wrapping her arms over her head. The masks touched together in a point, glistening as the spell seeped into their wooden bodies. A second layer shield formed beneath them, tightening around her and the boys. There was a silent _thuum_ , and suddenly the snake head was vaporized in a blinding plasma blast. The body eaten alive, and taken to oblivion. The chemicals contained in the orb and the magic cast a white sheet throughout the cavern. The Mad Doctor screamed, looking into the light as he vanished within it. An explosion that sounded like thunder screeched like a banshee, rocking the cavern to its core. Cracks webbed from all sides, threatening to bring the whole place crumbling down. The tiki masks were starting to sparkling brilliantly, erased little by little. The surface was the thinner was flattened, the force pushing it down hundreds of feet. Then it stopped. As if someone flicked a switch. The blast just stopped. Blanked out, no further damage, even got the thinner to stop rising. The Mad Doctor's dome was gone. Nothing but a streaking scorch mark serving as a remnant of its existence. The Mad Doctor himself...was no more. The masks had completely vanished...as did Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia. No trace of the snake, Doctor, or heroes was left.

The deathly silence was pierced by a black hole opening just outside the arena. Cecelia and the boy jumped down, fumbling to the knees and stomachs on the landing. They were panting heavily, checking themselves to make sure all of their pieces were still attached. That was the closest shave they've had in a long time. Good thing Cecelia planned for her shield not holding up. She dropped them into a black hole right as the blast happened. She saved their lives...again.

"Everyone alive?"

"Somehow…" Oswald felt the color leave his face. A fuzzy flake of light was falling from the air. He didn't have to think long to guess it was a tiny sprinkle of magic that got lost in the blast. He's seen something like this before. When The Blot exploded, the essence he had trapped within him rained down upon Wasteland, restoring everything he had destroyed. Cecelia's magic was amongst the restoration. The essence of Wasteland and Cecelia returned where it belonged, beckoned by a beacon in the night. The flake landed to Cecelia's open palm...and then just disappeared. oswald was taken aback. That didn't seem right. He figured it would seep into her skin, rejuvenate what she had lost. He looked to Cecelia...and just went blank. The look on her face was utter devastation. the light gone from her eyes. "What was that?" He asked her. She dropped her hand to her side, her shoulders sinking. "Cecelia…" Oswald reached out to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She went rigid at his touch. "Please...tell me…" _Don't shut me out. Not now._ "What happened just now?"

She shocked him when she touched her hand to his, turning to face him with a tearful smile. "Nothing I regret." Her voice broke. Oswald was gripped by utter horror. That explosion...the flake... _no._

"How is everything not disintegrated?" Mickey dusted himself off, meandering to his friends.

"Because The Doc spent the excess energy trying to kill us." Cecelia snorted in revulsion. This is what happens when amatures use tamper with forces they can't even begin to comprehend. "Prescott taught me a long time ago that when there's too much energy it's prudent to discharge it for less catastrophic results." The only positive take away left to redeem that bastard.

"And by removing the glyphs, The Mad Doctor lost control over the blasts." Oswald grasped at what was becoming a basic concept to him. "He basically wore his weapon out for us." Cecelia nodded proudly. There's hope for Oswald yet. Mickey wasn't at ease just yet. Sure, it looks like they've won...but he won't be able to rest until he's absolutely sure. He saw what was left of the Mad Doctor. He bowed his head out of respect. If only he had truly changed...no one should have to go out like this. "Is...is he gone?" Oswald asked apprehensively. Part of him...part of him really hoped that wasn't the case.

"I...I think so…" Mickey trembled. He can't be sure...not with how unnerved he is by the fate he was left to.

"Wow...just...wow…" Oswald remarked breathlessly, sinking with dread.

"Oswald…" Cecelia approached him, hands cupped to her heart. "I'm so-" A sharpened metal rod broke through the side of her stomach. Cecelia's whole body seized up. A dry heave of blood spilled down her jaw. Oswald and Mickey just went pale as ghosts. Disbelief, horror, and confusion distorted their faces at the bloodied pipe sticking out of her. Cecelia lurched forward on a starved breath, her buzzing brain wrecking itself to comprehend the cold pain ravaging her insides. She desperately clutching at the pipe, her fading in and out gaze falling to it, her blood, and bringing into perspective that...she had been stabbed. She looked pleadingly to Mickey and Oswald, begging for this not to be happening. Not even they were able to process this. They just stood there, hands hovering as if they wanted to help...but they had no clue what to do. Her jaw was clenched shut, blood still spilling profusely from it and her wound. She forced her head to turn, wheezing at how arduous that was. She threw up a little. Mickey and Oswald looked around her. Their insides went absolutely numb.

The Mad Doctor, the prosthetic skin complete gone from his animatronic parts, survived the blast. He had crawled on his stomach from whatever oblivion awaited him, not finished with these fools yet. His parts were charred jet black. He breathed heavily, rapsing with spit falling down his jaw like a starved animal. Hatred burned in his eyes. What was thought to be a piece of pipe in Cecelia was actually his left forearm. The end at the elbow was charred. It had been broken off...and was put to another use. "If...you think...I am going to Hell...alone…" He slowly stalked back to his feet. Cecelia stumbled at the arm shifting inside her as he towered over her, "YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN!" He pushed the arm in deeper, making Cecelia grunt in pain. He lifted her clear off the ground, displaying her before her friends. Mickey and Oswald could only watch, too scared to move. The Mad Doctor swung the arm with all his might. Cecelia slipped off the arm, and was skipping to a sliding halt right on the edge of the platform.

"CECELIA!" Oswald screamed hysterically. No...not this again! He won't let this happen again! Cecelia isn't going to walk on death's door again! He and Mickey ran for her.

"Oh no you don't!" The Mad Doctor threw his broken arm away. He roared at the top of his lungs, snatching Oswald up by the neck and squeezing hard. Mickey skipped to a stop, gaping in dismay at Oswald wrestling with the Mad Doctor. He was stuck in the middle, battling between saving Cecelia who starting to slip off the edge, and saving Oswald from have the life choked out of him. "For too long I've suffered because of you! I won't let this victory slip through my fingers again!" The pressure built in Oswald's head. His eyes were rolling in the back of his head.

Mickey didn't know what to do. He had to do something. His friends were going to die. "Os...wald…" Came a squeak. Mickey stared stunned at Cecelia. She clawed at the ground, wrenching her body forward from the edge slightly. Her black ring stained eyes peered at him, fighting to remain open just a bit longer. "Save...Oswald!" She ordered him, then fell unconscious. Mickey opened his mouth to call out. To protest that he can't abandon her. His mouth closed with reluctance, his brow knitting. He nodded firmly, swearing to come for her. Mickey found his brush and raced to Oswald.

"Ortensia, Gus, ALL OF YOUR PATHETIC FRIENDS, will perish slowly - PAINFULLY!" The Mad Doctor vowed, slamming down Oswald hard. The ground rupturing under him robbed him of whatever air was left in his little lungs. He was blacking out. "I will tear this pathetic world apart! I will destroy the Cartoon World!" Mickey ran at top speed, holding the brush out to the side. Freed Turps swarmed the bristles, radiating a brilliant glow in their call to battle. "And you will writhe in your grave knowing there is nothing you can do to stop me!" Oswald's resisting was dying out. His body was going limp. "Not Mickey, not Cecelia - NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO STOP ME!"

"WANNA BET?!" Mickey roared. He leapt high into the air, brush raised above his head. The Mad Doctor threw Oswald aside, reaching out to snag the mouse. Mickey smashed one foot to the hand, and wrenched the other forward and stomped the Mad Doctor's face in. He kicked off his face into a backflip. The Mad Doctor stumbled back. Mickey flourished his brush. With Turp immersed within, a wave of thinner roared from the brush. The Turps swarmed the Mad Doctor as he was swarmed head to toe, eating at his metal parts to the wires.

"GRAH! BAH! GET OFF! BEGONE PESTS!" The Mad Doctor swatted at them, flailing in agony as the thinner ate at him. "You won't stop me! Nothing will stop me!"

"EXCEPT US!" Oswald didn't give the Mad Doctor enough time to glance his way. He launched his strongest volt of electricity from his remote, blowing a hole right through the Mad Doctor's chest, destroying the artificial heart keeping him online.

"No...NO!" The Mad Doctor clutched at the smoking wound. The Turps swam inside, devouring his insides whole. The Mad Doctor screamed, clawing at himself in desperation. He stumbled backwards...his foot touched air...despair filled his face the world tilted. "Oswald…" He squeaked. The rabbit glared him down, watching from afar as he took his final plunge. "OSSWWAALLDD…!" The Mad Doctor screamed one final time, begging to not end like this. He hit the thinner with a congealed splash. Mickey and Oswald went to the edge, watching The Mad Doctor succumb to his fate. The impact broke him to pieces...the light leaving his eyes for the last time as he sank to the depths.

Oswald bowed his head, wishing that it never had to come to this. Mickey pat him on the shoulder, assuring him all would be well. The pair turned to go retrieve Cecelia. She needed help fast. She was barely conscious...her body was moving backwards. "OH NO!" Oswald screamed, he and Mickey breaking into a sprint.

Cecelia's eyes went to the back of her head. She rolled off the edge. "CECELIA!" The boys cried, falling to the knees in despair. They can't believe it. They lost another friend. Or so they thought. Something really loved Cecelia today, because Gus came flying from below with her in his arms.

"GUS! YOU MADE IT!" Mickey cheered with a tear in his eye.

"Of course I did!" He guffawed, sounding a little offended they thought he wouldn't. "I wouldn't leave you chaps hanging." A very bad joke to make considering the number of falls they've taken. Gus looked down at Cecelia, disheartened by the gaping hole in her side. The fact that she was able to smile at him raised his spirits. But...she wasn't going to last long. Gus went to the boys, sitting to his knees to prop Cecelia up. They would wait until...until her time came. "You've looked better, my dear." He sniffled.

"I've...felt...better…" She coughed up more blood, grabbing at her wound. Oswald and Mickey felt their eyes being stung by tears. They balled their fingers into fists, wishing there was something they could do. A miracle like last year. She...she doesn't deserve to go out like this. Not in a place like this.

The prayers of her friends were heard loud and clear. Seriously, someone above really loves her and wants her to reach old age. Tints came back into the cavern, flowing in a river of glistening azure blue to the barely conscious cat. Mickey and Oswald gave the Tints space. Gus raised his hands. The tints packed themselves to her through and through wound, wiggling in clumps to assuage the profuse bleeding and soak it back up to return to her veins. The back of the wound sealed itself closed, leaving a nice wrinkled patch of a scar to blemish her skin. Cecelia's eyes blinked back open, the color coming back to her cheeks. Mickey, Oswald, and Gus could hardly believe their eyes. The tints were healing her. The hole gradually sealed itself, muscle rebuilt and fortified. As the last of the Guardians came from the wound, Cecelia's body had completely healed itself. Yeah, she had two nice scars...and yes she was still in pain. But at least she was alive. She smiled to her friends, and then to the Guardians. "Thanks, guys. All of you." She put a hand to Gus's cheek, patting it lightly.

Mickey and Oswald aren't sure how much more of this they can handle. They really needed to leave that cavern before anymore surprises happened. Gus seconded their feelings. Cecelia was better, now they can leave. Though she was looking a little pale. "How about a little sun?" He offered playfully.

"Sounds...good." She grunted between raspy breaths, resting her eyes for the ride. The Tint formed in a cloud, scooping up Gus and the others and taking them outside.

 **xxx**

Wasteland itself sensed the great dangers of the land had passed. The stormy clouds that surrounded the Mad Doctor's dastardly ride was breaking apart. Rays of warm, glorious sunlight tickled the skin of Mickey, Oswald, Cecelia, and Gus as the Tints brought them to the outside. The blue boys left their friends on the ride's walkway. A projector to let them onto Mean Street South appeared in the tunnel that had the paint curtain. With the ride out of commision, the paint and thinner curtains dried up. Mickey and the others would like nothing more than to put this place behind them...but they really just wanted to sit down for 30 seconds and bask in the knowledge that nothing else could possibly go wrong. Besides, Cecelia and Oswald weren't in the greatest of shape. They needed to sit down for a while.

The four went to the ledge of the walkway, letting their legs hang out to the abyss. The feel of the sun massaged their aching bodies, the fresh breeze rejuvenated their souls. There was a melody being carried on the air, assuring them all - especially Oswald - that the evil plaguing their home had truly passed. They felt it as they sat there. There are no lingering siphons stealing Guardians, no more evil toys of the Mad Doctor terrorizing Wasteland, no quakes or aftershocks. All was as it should be. Once again, Wasteland was safe.

Cecelia lurched forward with a loud groan, dropping her head in disbelief. This battle was harder than the last for so many reasons. She can hardly grasp that it was really over. She smashed a hand to her face, rubbing her tired eyes. She looked at her hand, able to see the battle scars that she would carry from surviving another tumultuous trial Wasteland hand thrown at her. She carried no regrets. Everything that has transpired is of her own volition. Save for Prescott. Other than that, she can't wait to return home knowing how much stronger this adventure has made her.

"Cecelia...earlier…" Oswald meekly spoke, breaking her train of thought. "What happened?" Gus ogled him strangely, curious of what he was talking about. Mickey quickly filled him in on the core exploding, and how a speck of magic disappeared instead of returning to Cecelia like it did last time. Gus was crestfallen by the tale. He and Mickey stared her down just as Oswald was for answers. "Why didn't your magic return?"

Cecelia signed defeatedly. There was no avoiding it now. She knew he would ask again, and promised herself she wouldn't leave him in the dark. "My magic is gone." She stated raspily. Their jaws hit the floor. "By destroying that which I named the new host, the magic trapped inside just dispersed. All that's left…" She tapped her spellbook, "Is whatever is attached to this book and these gauntlets."

"BUT WHY?!" Oswald scared her out of her skin. He shook her by the shoulders. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!" He doesn't get why anyone would sacrifice so much power. She could have easily taken it back. Instead she let it go poof?! "Why didn't you just take it back like last time?!"

"Because last time my magic was stolen. I willingly put my magic in that core to keep it stable." Cecelia had explained that once before as well. Stolen magic begs to return home. Gifted magic will stay. "Also…" She looked at her hand again, a little disappointed in herself. "I don't have the strength, and I didn't have the time to prepare a ritual." The Mad Doctor was trying to ruthlessly kill them, after all. She barely had a second to breathe. Forget trying to perform a huge ritual while dodging attacks. She put a hand to Mickey and Oswald's shoulder and glanced at Gus so they would understand better. "The Mad Doctor would have killed you all by that time. My best option to save you all was to just remove the glyphs and wait."

"Cecelia…" Gus exhaled sadly, shaking his head. This is all their fault. She lost her powers because of them. "We're so sorry." There is no way they can ever repay her for this.

"Don't be." She giggled at him. He has no reason to apologize. "I saved you guys from a very messy end. That's all that matters to me." She opened her arms. The boys smiled, huddling in close to her, enveloped in her loving embrace. "Really...it's all that ever mattered." And that was good enough for them.

Is she sad that her powers were gone? Absolutely. She's crushed. Magic was...her blood. She felt connected to her her late mother, and her grandfather. The barriers that have separated them seemed less dense with each spell she cast. She felt...special. With them gone...she doesn't feel any less special. If anything there's this hole in her that she fears she won't be able to fill. BUT it wasn't all bad. There's a bright side here. Wasteland would receive what she lost, using it to strengthen itself for the next enemy that tries to destroy it. The Guardians may receive her powers as her thanks for saving her life. Her fondest wish is that they use them to heal this world, and remove the emotional scars that would ravage it. At least...now...she knows...there is no way for anyone else to use her powers to harm others ever again.

 **xxx**

Somewhere in the jungles of Ventureland, a tiki mask that occupied the Mad Doctor's evil dome was lying - in tact - on a patch of moist moss. A glimmering streak of ethereal light scrolled across the mask. The moss...began to move.

 **TO BE CONTINUED FOR THE LAST TIME!**

 **One more chapter, and that's it. The next one won't even be long.**


	30. Epilogue to Their Return

**Epilogue to Their Return**

 **This is the final chapter, you guys. It has been a fun ride. But, like all things, this has reached its end. So, here you are. Enjoy, leave comments, and yes I will leave a message about the third installment and what is planned.**

 **xxx**

Wasteland's heroes emerged from Venutreland's projector. Arm in arm, Mickey and Oswald, and Cecelia and Gus stepped out onto Mean Street North. The wounds they retained were great in number. The strength, dedication, and willingness to face tomorrow was greater. Intensified by those very wounds inflicted by the Mad Doctor. Immediatley, they were greeted by a massive crowd of Toons gathered by Ortensia, awaiting their return with bated breath. Golden bits of confetti showered to the street. The applause and cheers echoed for miles and miles, carried by the free breeze to the regions all around, alerting all who would hear them that the danger had passed. Their home was safe once again. Victory draped to the shoulders like capes, salvation weighted to their heads like a crown. And though Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia gained a bad rep somewhere along the ride, the people of Wasteland never forook the effort and work those three put into keeping them all safe. No one ever asked for their help. Or ask that they be ready to come to arms for them. Now that they think about it, Mickey and Cecelia had absolutely zero reason to ever lift a finger for them. This did not exclude Oswald. Oswald is their leader. He can order soldiers to fight for him. Mickey and Cecelia were just strangers to their world at one point. They had no emotional attachment to this place, no real reason to care if it got destroyed, nor did they have a single solid reason to put their lives on the line for it. Yet they did. A third time for Mickey, and a second time for Cecelia - these two put their lives on the line for Wasteland. Oswald, for the umpteenth time, risked everything for his people. Never will they be able to thank them properly, or enough. Not that either of them would ask them too. Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia were just relieved to see how everyone had come around to welcome them home. To see everyone happy, healthy, and alive was their greatest achievement.

Daisy and Donald tossed flowers and rice at them. The Ghost Brothers were the ones throwing the confetti at them. Leona used her spectral powers to give them an extra shimmer. Great heroes need a great welcome. Ortensia and Oswald collided in a hug. Oswald spun her around in the air, passionately kissing her and getting an even louder applause. Horace and Clarabelle slapped Gus and Mickey on the back, lifting their arms in the air to let them soak up the win they've awarded Wasteland. Jamface attacked Cecelia with a hug, giving her a kiss on either cheek. Cecelia giggled with embarrassment, but ultimately returned the kisses. What? She's single now. What does it matter? Now enough talk! It's time to party! Toons rushed from the audience. They lifted Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia up onto their shoulders, parading them into the crowd for a victory lap. Ortensia and Gus laughed at how silly they looked riding on other people's shoulders like children. They had to say, it felt good to laugh. Especially now.

It will remain a mystery on how in the wild wide world of Wasteland it was assembled so fast, but a parade was dancing down all of Mean Street North. The Gremlins got together and built a hovering road to take that parade too Mean Street South, and maybe some of the other regions if they aren't too exhausted. Or run out of scrap metal. This was no small parade either. Significant parts of this trying journey were thrown in there. And everyone who was apart of it got to watch, or get a ride. The Gremlins happily added that they worked some serious overtime in order to get the attractions ready.

First in line of the parade was the Dragon Blotworx the heroes faced in the Mad Doctor's lab in the gulch. It got fixed up good as new. Was walking around, putting on a little dance for the audience. The scales lit up like Christmas light. The dragon astonished everyone when its fiery breath was replaced by bubblegum balloons of hearts. Clarabelle and Horace, joined hand in hand, were moved by the beautiful sight. Horace handed her a box of chocolates, earning himself a big fat kiss on the cheek. The Prescott Castle from Prescott's Arena in the Floatyard was also working good as new. Rolling down Mean Street with its opening and closing jaws, turning its head as it waved to everyone. Ghost Ian was giving icecream to Spatters and children. A Slobber tried giving an icecream to someone...ended up scaring him. The blotlings were going to try being nice to their neighbors seeing as they were spared in Blot Alley. That'll be a work in progress. Donald and Daisy, after having the time of their lives on their date, ended their evening with this parade. Donald had to give her flowers so she would always know how precious he thought she was.

Finally, the float carrying Mickey, Cecelia, Ortensia, Gus, and Oswald came rolling down the streets. The heroes waved to their adoring public, finding all that they endured to be well worth it to be part of this.

 **(Yensid POV)**

 _Once again, to no real surprise on my part, good prevailed over the most sinister of evil._ _Cecelia swirled her hands one over the other, throwing shrieking balls of light high into the sky. Fireworks boomed over the Mean Streets, lighting up the hearts of the onlooking Toons. Famous and Familiar faces took shape, receiving the best cheers._ _Although there were some missteps along the way, the brave mouse,_ _Mickey jumped up and down in victory,_ _The lucky rabbit ,_ _Oswald gave his people a front flip and splits,_ _And the curious feline ,_ _Cecelia twirled like a ballerina and curtsied,_ _Saved Wasteland from the evil machinations of the Mad Doctor._

 _Wasteland was saved once more, and would thrive anew in the days to come._ _The trio, plus Ortensia and Gus jumped from their float and went to the Walt statue, wanting the parade to carry on without them. A_ _s has come to be expected of the remarkable beings._ _Parts of the crowd gathered near Oswald and Ortensia, praising their glorious leaders for always being there when they needed them. Oswald and Ortensia motioned for Mickey and Cecelia to get in on the action. Those two happily stepped aside, giving a curtsy and bow for their friend to bask in the glory. This was truly all his._ _As he looked around to see the glee that had returned to his home, he began to realize just how much for granted he took times of peace. If it meant seeing his people and friends happy, he would not rest until he is satisfied that all evils that threaten his home are quelled._

 _Many mysteries still remain to be solved. Where had Prescott vanished to? What was the purpose behind the costumes and scenes in the Mad Doctor's old attic? Why did one of the projectors lead to a lost region in Wasteland, and link with the aforementioned attic? So many questions...that would be left for a later time._

 _Mickey, Cecelia, and Oswald did not know what challenges may lie ahead._ _In the distance, a plethora of fireworks was roaring from Dark Beauty Castle._ _But they were comforted by the knowledge that, together,_ _Ortensia with Cecelia by the hand, Mickey, Gus, and Oswald looped around each other's shoulders went to the edge of Mean Street, sat there and watched them in awe,_ _They could conquer anything._

 _Ortensia lied to Oswald's shoulder, holding his hand as she snuggled to him. Cecelia smiled at how adorable they are...then felt her heart tear as she stared at the cat communicator pin prescott made...just for her. She half expected his voice to come from it. Silence._ _The losses that they suffered this journey would not cripple the spirits of Oswald and Cecelia._ _Cecelia closed her hand to the pin, putting it to her heart where she knew she would carry the good memories of their time together._ _Granted, the pain of the betrayal their closest confidants inflicted would sting for a good long while,_ _Oswald sighed heavily, thinking on the days that he and The Mad Doctor spent as bosom buddies. And...he thought about how he would love to see the fireworks exploding over the land he pretended to save,_ _It would not hinder their growth as they progress forward. __Gus came in with the clutch. Triple scoop ice creams all around. Everyone's favorite flavors just making this day a whole lot better._ _Instead the betrayals would be embraced,_ _Ortensia and Cecelia hooked arms, taking licks from one another's ice creams,_ _Serving as pedestals for the wisdom they gained ,_ _Mickey and Oswald stretched behind the girls to engage in a little ice cream war. Swords and slingshots that hit their target everytime,_ _And the strength that fortified their hearts all the more._ _Gus shook his head at what children they are. Though he was making some sort of weird sculptures with is icecream._

 _Henceforth, enemies should beware and be warned._ _The parade was done and over with, leaving nothing but a clean up crew of Spatters and Toons to sweep up the confetti, rice, and other things that were thrown. Mickey and Cecelia bid their farewells to their friends on the two Mean Streets, wishing them all the best as they rebuilt Wasteland. Of course they offered to help. Oswald assured them that this would be their mess to clean up. They cannot leave all of their problems to their Savior Duo. Still, as they headed for the projector, Mickey and Cecelia told them not to hesitate to ask for their help. It was never a problem._ _While they weren't able to save everyone,_ _Jamface presented a the projector to Dark Beauty Castle. New, improved, and with a smoother ride than before,_ _Mickey, Oswald, and Cecelia will protect those who still remain with every ounce of power that they have._ _Mickey shook Jamface's hands, thanking him for all he's done. Cecelia hugged him tightly, never going to forget his kind words when she faced self doubt. Oswald, Gus, and Ortensia joined the two in the jaunt back to the castle, grimacing at the mess that awaited the gremlins and toons._ _By Volts, Magic, and Brush - Wasteland shall forever be under their protection ,_ _They came to the mirror in the tower Cecelia had used to return home. Will be a lot less tricky, and painful, than going back through the ceiling they came from,_ _And the people within forever in their care._ _Mickey and Cecelia bid their final farewells to their friends, promising to visit when Wasteland isn't in peril like Jamface pointed out. Oswald, Ortensia, and Gus could not wait to see them. It'll be a date. Cecelia and Oswald locked smiles, mentally warning one another to not let their mistakes define them...and for them both to get a better line of friends. With their hearts lifted, Mickey and Cecelia entered the mirror, leaving Wasteland behind once more._

 **(POV End)**

 **xxx**

Yensid was reviewing a manual at his work bench, curious about the purpose voodoo dolls serve and how he can reorient them for a method other than torture. He sensed a disturbance in the force and set the book down. He had an inkling of where it was coming from. Moseying over to the magic mirror, he grinned and folded his arms at the rippling display. An adult Cecelia, and Mickey came flopping out on their hides, groaning at their rough landing. Yensid stood over them, laughing at how even their entrances are impetuous. Those two never do anything quiet.

Cecelia and Mickey laughed at him nervously, rubbing the backs of their necks. Mickey was especially nervous. He doesn't exactly have the best track record with his intrusions here. He has kind of been borrowing a brush with Yensid's express permission. And he's been complicit in Cecelia's disappearances. Yensid offered the two a hand, hauling them onto their feet. He tickled the mirror's glass, getting it to link with Mickey's home back in the Cartoon World. He plucked the mouse off the ground, putting him on the mantel, and ordered him with a finger to leave. Mickey didn't have to be told twice. He saluted a bye to Cecelia, she saluted back, and it was back home he went. Cecelia exhaled when a supreme weight just listed off her shoulders. Looking up at her grandfather, she felt beyond happy to be home. To show him, besides the fact that her magic - most of it - is gone forever, she was stronger than ever. And she would only get stronger moving forward.

Yensid and Cecelia sat in the living room. She gave him the full run down fo what transpired in the final battle. Needless to say, he was disturbed by the turn of events. But he was beside himself with delight that Cecelia returned home in one piece. Albeit...a few bruises. She was icing those. "After we beat the Doc, there was a parade, Mickey and I said our goodbyes, and we came home. Oswald and the others are fixing up Wasteland as we speak."

Yensid bobbed his head, pleased there was a happy ending to this tale. A lot happier than her tale of woe from her previous return. "And your magic…" Yensid had to dampen the mood and ask about the elephant in the room. "You say it is gone."

"Y-Yes…sir." She sank into herself, putting her suddenly cold hands between her thighs. While she doesn't regret her decision...she's scared to death on what Yensid will say.

"Well, magic doesn't just vanish without a trace." He proceeded to educate her. "In all likelihood, Wasteland is keeping it safe and tucked away for you. Or it will put it to use." Cecelia thought of that too, making her feel even less guilty. "Either way," Yensid bobbed his shoulder, reaching over and putting his hands to Cecelia's, "I am proud of you, Cecelia, for putting the well being of others above yourself." He moved the hand to her cheek, adoring the young woman that is sitting before him. "Your mother is proud too."

Cecelia lit up like the stars, so relieved to hear him say that. "Thanks, Grandpa." She went over and hugged him. "I'm proud of myself too."

Yensid ran a hand down her back, not knowing what he would do if she wasn't so strong. He might have become one of those overly protective types. "So what is next for my Curious Hero Granddaughter?"

"I dunno." She shrugged her hands. She snapped her fingers, making a small flame on her index finger. "I'm not completely magic-less. But…" She glanced over to the gloves and belt she set on the couch. A smile crept to her lips. She picked them up delicately, hands running along the smooth mechanic woven into the leather. "A new interest may have been introduced to me." Science and Sorcery...that's Alchemy, last time she checked. Guess this will be her way of moving forward.

 **xxx**

 _ **One Year Later**_

Three in the morning has been a very popular hour to catch Cecelia still wide awake and engrossed in some work she assigned herself. A good thing she made a workspace just for her so she owuldn't ruin Yensid's tower. One of the lesser used closets had been completely renovated and transformed into a workshop. Cecelia did most of the renovating herself, using that as her premise to get her feet wet in her new hobby. The magic brooms helped out too. Yensid mostly supervised until she exhausted herself. Then he would zap a wooden plank or two to keep the work rolling. Shelves over packed with beakers, books, files, and various measuring tools were set on bars nails to the walls. She also had a few hand sewn plush dolls of her buddies back in Wasteland. Mickey and Prescott dolls were amongst them. Two desks were a good space away from each other. One for potion powders, grinders, mixing bowls, herbs - medicinal and mixes, and notes on particular spells learned along the way. The second desk was filled with screwdrivers, wrenches, batteries, power conduits, toasters. Measuring tape, protractors, rulers, notebooks filled front to back with formulas and equations, blueprints with drawings of upgrades for the gauntlets and belt, other blueprints for some side projects of interest. A regular autoshop of engineering tools. Those desks had to be kept a good ways apart so that the chemicals wouldn't accidentally mix with one another. Yensid...already had to help clean up a couple of explosions.

Cecelia had work goggles on while mixing up some chemicals and letting them stew into a clay bowl. The batch was a little bright, and the fumes come from it was irritating her skin. She doesn't need to go accidentally blind. Cecelia didn't dabble in the extremes when it came to mechanics. And really tried to keep her magic away from it. Unsure how volatile it was. She was especially nervous when she saw that formulas in engineering matched with formulas in sorcery. A handful of times, when she was making a small satellite out of a toaster, or trying to create a solar panel, she would recall instances where a particular spell can augment the purpose of the satellite, or come across a mixture to paint on the solar panels so that they panels can create smaller suns themselves. Basically, in a less long winded sense, Cecelia had discovered ways that science and sorcery can come together, rather than just restoring to Alchemy. Although, if she's being honest with herself, Alchemy has become increasingly more enjoyable. She told herself to just stick with that and go on, but she really wanted to see how she can mingle science and sorcery her way. She doesn't really learn her lesson. Just adjusts for contingencies.

"Still awake, I see." Yensid knocked on her opened door.

Cecelia turned from her experiment, lifting her goggles to show the black rings under her eyes. "Yeah. Sorry." She laughed dryly.

"You know rest is as important as work." He teased her, entering the workshop. At least she keeps the place clean. Seriously, it was immaculate. Cecelia shrugged while laughing, not really sure how to respond to that. She just lost track of time like she always does. Yensid noted the engineering tools, and the odd mixture she had in a bowl. "I see you're sticking to your guns about this new interest you discovered." He was very impressed. She had several reference guides for engineering, alchemy, and even her own handwritten guide for he own personal experiments.

"Well, my magic is almost nonexistent." She pressed her thighs to the table. "I just thought it would be good to have a backup plan for my future." Can't have just one talent. ONe has to expand their horizons, see where their niches lie. "I'm not going to give up magic. I just want to keep my options open."

Yensid planted a kiss to her forehead. "Just remember to be happy with what you do." He poked her nose. "It's never work when you enjoy yourself."

"I know." She impishly replied, her cheeks turning red.

"Well, since we're both awake, how about some coffee?"

"Sounds great!" She cheered. Yensid knew she'd like that idea. He went to go brew a fresh pot.

This prompted Cecelia to finally take a break. She'll go lounge on the couch until the coffee is ready. With any lucky, she'll zonk out and get some much needed sleep. It'll make Yensid happy. Cecelia's becoming an insomniac with all this new work she's putting on her shoulders. Cecelia sat down in the corner of the couch, she curled into a ball, and she gradually drifted off in the bitter delicious smell of the brewing coffee. Her eyes were getting heavier. It was becoming harder to keep them open. Her body was getting too comfy in its spot. Her muscles thumped, massaging her into a pleasant slumber. The tower was fading into black.

"...!"

"Huh!" Cecelia shot up, scared wide awake. Just now...a muffled screeched pierced her ear. She thinks it was a screech. maybe it was the coffee maker.

"... ..." Her blood turned to ice hearing it again. That wasn't a screech. It was a voice. "... …" It was hard to make out but...she thinks it was...a man's voice?

"Maybe it's grandpa." She wondered aloud. She meandered to the kitchen, finding Yensid making a few sandwiches to go with the coffee. "You say something?"

"Nothing here." He told her, not breaking away from making the cucumber sandwiches. "I think your exhaustion is making you hear things."

"Maybe…" She trailed off, heading back to the couch. She might have inhaled too many fumes. Maybe she should put a sixth window in her shop. "I'm just going to-" She went to lay down.

" _c...e...a..._ " She stopped dead in place, eyes wide in terror. She definitely heard a voice this time. It was male like she guessed. And it wasn't Yensid. Someone...someone was in their home! HOW?! No one can reach the tower unless they can cross dimensions. Some people may not know this, but Yensid's tower is located in a pocket of space. A existence between realms in a way. A kid named Sora visited a couple of times. **(ha-ha)** Anyway! Point being! No one else should be in that house.

Stiffly she craned her neck, shaking eyes scanning the tower, her racing mind expecting to spot a stranger lurking in a corner somewhere. At first blush...she was alone. Just her and Yensid as it should be. That better judgement part of her told her to go get Yensid and tell him she thinks someone is in the tower. "Hello…?" She squeaked barely above a whisper. Yeah...she ignored her better judgement as usual and called out to the mysterious stranger. When all she got was silence, she tried again. This time with a bit more voice. "Hello?"

For a while there was nothing. Maybe the person left. Or really was never there. Then there was this crackling static sound she hadn't noticed at first. Like a radio that was having a hard time getting a signal. _"... … … lia…"_ A voice broke through that staic. Her body went rigid. She strained her hearing. _"Ce… ...lia…"_ Her name. She heard her name! This person knows her name. She has to get Yensid. _"Help…"_ That word was crystal clear, stopping her from going into the kitchen. With that one word the voice was becoming clearer. It had more substance to it. _"Cecelia…help...!"_ Cecelia's face fell from her bones. Her breath hitched in her throat. Heart slowled to irregular beats. She...she recognized the voice. And she knew where the crackling was coming from. The communicator pin.

"Not...possible…" She quaked in her boots. Her throat was clenching. She was coming unhinged, her brain spiraling out of control. She tiptoed for the hallway, peering toward the magic mirror scared out of her mind.

On the mantel were the gloves, belt, and the pin she brought back with her as souvenirs. Her spellbook was with them. She leaves them by the mirror for when she goes to Wasteland and she doesn't forget to strap up. Here's the thing though. She worked with Gus and Jamface to develop a mirror that lets them contact Cecelia or Mickey. No need for the pin. Especially since the pins' range doesn't really reach into the tower.

Cecelia got closer to the mantle, mentally panicking in fear of some sort of monster to pop out and drag her away like before. Or suck her soul out. She saw the pin. "... … … ..." The crackled returned. " _Are...u...there?!_ "

There it was! The voice she knew! Breaking through the static...sounding desperate. "Prescott?" She stepped back in shock, her mind coming apart by the seams. _It's been a year! A whole year! ...why...now…how?_ The back of her mind told her it couldn't possibly be him. No one's seen him, heard from him...or thought he was alive. Cecelia's shaking fingers took the pin. She stared at it petrified. She doesn't want it to be Prescott...at the same time...at the same time...what did she want right now? Her thumb had pressed down on the receiver button before she could comprehend her own thoughts. She licked her dry lips, brought the pin closer. "H...h...Prescott…?" She stammered, eyes starting to water. Her heart was going to explode out of her chest. The silence that followed was suffocating.

The static returned, growing louder and popping more ferociously. The pin was vibrating in her fingers. Cecelia was scared it was going to explode. "CECELIA!" Prescott's voice boomed from the pin. Cecelia screamed so loud Yensid almost dropped the two cups of coffee. She dropped the pin, falling to her butt and scrambling away. "HELP...ME…PLEASE… … … ..." The pin went dead, shorting out from the flurry of static.

"Cecelia!" Yensid rushed to her, setting the coffee aside as he knelt beside her. He cradled her near his chest, panicking at how pale she looked. "What is the matter? What was that scream?!"

Cecelia blinked in total shock, rooted in place. Prescott...contacted her...begged for help...after all this time. He...he sounded like...he was in danger. She glanced to the broken pin, utterly dumbfounded. the range never should have reached this far. Yet Prescott...broke through. He found a way to reach her. He called to her. He...he needs her help. Or it was a trap. Like it always is. Either way, Cecelia ignored that better judgement. She sucked on her lips, inhaled strongly through her nose. "Grandpa...we're going to have to wait on that coffee." She went to the mantle. She strapped on the gloves, the belt, hooked the spellbook to the holster, and she faced the mirror with a furrowed brow. A phantom image of a terrified Prescott rippled in and out of view. "I'm going back to Wasteland."

 **THE END!**

 **Alright, guys, here's what to expect in the next installment.**

 **The third one will have to do with the Petes as well as the Castle of Illusions. How I will make that work is something that I am working on. It's coming along. I will go into greater detail about Cecelia's workshop there. Here was just a summary and a not so great description. Prescott will be in it. Not sure what I really want to do with him and Cecelia, but will roll with it. I plan to bring in a concept that Warren Spector tossed called the Storm Blot, therefore Oswald will have a darker story. Go look it up. It was going to be a real thing. No I will not bring the Mad Doctor back. That is final. He's dead. Deal with it. Cecelia's full magic...undecided. A love story? Yes and no. Will mostly be about redemption and forgiveness. Of course Mickey will be in it. So will Ortensia and Gus. I want to include Jamface. And...that's pretty much it. There's more, but I don't want to give away too much.**

 **I have no time frame on when I will post it, so don't ask. That's all, Ladies and Germs, and I will see you later. Go enjoy my other fics. Read my Sly Cooper fic. It isn't getting that much love.**


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